You hit snooze. Then again. Then again. Not because you want more sleep, but because getting up feels like too much. Every press is a small bargain: five more minutes, then I’ll move. Eventually you drag yourself out of bed, and your first thought isn’t the day ahead. It’s how quickly you can get coffee into your system just so you can start to feel normal.
One cup doesn’t do it. You’re already counting on the second before you’ve finished the first.
Your body feels heavy in a way that’s hard to explain. Not sore. Not sick. Just uncooperative. Lifting your legs to walk feels like work, like you have to convince them to move. The morning isn’t difficult, exactly. It’s resistant.
You stand in the shower and zone out for five or ten minutes without realizing it. Time passes, but you don’t feel more awake for it. You move through your routine step by step, like each part requires a little internal agreement before you can continue. Everything feels slow, sticky, like wading through quicksand.
You’re awake, but you’re not fully online yet.
Eventually, later in the morning, things start to shift. The fog thins. Your body becomes easier to move. Your mind finally shows up. The negotiation ends, and you can get on with the day.
But it shouldn’t take this long to reach that point.
