Wake up.
--
No more waking up at five am when the sun has already begun its ascent to whisper a gentle hello to the parts of the world that are still half-soaked in the dregs of sleep, as my fingers grope for my phone in the first light like I do everyday at exactly this time so I can hear your voice. Knowing our history, we never were good at saying good-bye, but it's something that we keep doing anyway. I wonder if we'll succeed this time.
There is so much irony in how the Distance that marked my summer pulled us closer together than how we ever were when I was still home, and now that I'm back again something tells me that I won't be hearing much of your voice anymore, I suppose. Tomorrow, and for the rest of the year I'll be pushing myself to wake up at five to mentally and physically prepare myself for my last year of high school and take note of how the sun has not yet risen.
I'll miss breakfasts in sunny California with coffee, eggs, and toast and most of all preparing them myself. I miss long stretches of roads, driving to grocery stores and heading to the makeup and stationery aisles, the thrill of going out at night, lounging on extra comfortable couches while watching tv shows on Netflix, hunting for clothes and books, Santa Monica pier, the Wharf in San Francisco, that gorgeous guy that could pass for a Steven Strait look-alike (only better), and how almost every day and every person I come across is a story waiting to happen.
I've been back for more than twenty-four hours and I've barely adjusted, but I'm trying. So far I've been spending the day unpacking and wearing a sulky expression on my face. Tomorrow I'm carrying my butt to school. Except for mandatory and excruciating hours of Math and Physics and burning questions the teachers will no doubt throw my way, I don't know what to expect. I've always hated Mondays.
But at least in California, tomorrow is just Sunday.
Seventeen and studying Psychology. I like books, coffee, lyricism, magic hour, (in)signifcant moments, free-verse poetry, mental disorders, female anatomy, pretty smiles, late night conversations, and the time it takes for two people to transcend the boundary between strangers and friends.
I keep sadness at bay by constantly falling in love with the little things in life. My name is Anna and this is where I try to write.
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