The loud buzzer signals the start of a new day. I groan into my pillow. I want to punish the messenger. I briefly contemplate the damage I could do with one blow. The carnage of plastic that would litter my bedroom. The feeling of satisfaction at having destroyed the bane of my existence.
But it’s not the alarm clock that makes me feel this way. It’s not the alarm clock that whispers in my ear every morning upon waking “why bother?” It’s not the alarm clock that pries its way inside my chest and replaces my heart with poison. I drift back into blissful sleep until my enemy returns. I hit the snooze button two or three times more. Until it’s inevitable.
I must get out of bed. I must begin my day. I must put out of my mind, at least temporarily, the Thing that wants to steal my future and poison all that I hold dear.
It’s a new day.