This is the Best Day Ever.

The alarm clock buzzed with a sickening sound, suggestive of a mosquito hitting a hot light bulb. Everyone knows that sound. You put up that purple light because you grow weary of them biting you, but when you witness them hitting the light and dying as their bodies are charred to crisps against the light bulb, you suddenly feel sorry for putting that light up. Yeah, that sound.

I threw the blanket off, slid my jeans on over my legs, and ran a hand through my mousy brown hair. Willing my shaky legs to stand, I made my way to the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, and stared at the stranger in the mirror. She looked so much like me, except her eyes were deadened with a lack of any real, deep sleep. Rings of night-old cheap eyeliner gave her an appearance almost as much human as panda.

But, undoubtedly, the stranger in the mirror had to be me. How could it not be? I rinsed my face with makeup remover and water until the rings went away, and I was left with a person even less becoming than the first to look at. The person in the mirror stared at me with a gritty determination that blended with self-hatred and rage.