It is morning, oh my gosh, it is morning.  Please go away, come again when I feel like it.  Why did this bright sun wake me up? My eyes are closed, and I can still feel the pressure on my skin

Today is a school day. Well, every day is a school day when your classes are online. Why am I complaining? My grades are doing well, I can repeat my quiz, but my laptop is too far away.  It’s not in arm’s reach.  It’s only across the bedroom, but, still, I don’t want to go to school.  I’d have to get up from this bed, make coffee, find the right underwear to wear in my semi-comfortable chair.  Maybe I should order a better chair from amazon?  Ordering online has become the new COVID-19 fashion.

Here I go again, creating excuses.  Is it an excuse if I can convince myself?  Or am I being reasonable because I am using my intellect to coerce the strands of my brain, into the understanding that the philosophy of debate is between an audience and not myself?  Which means I have already won.

Maybe I should watch the next Netflix episode of 13 Reasons Why.  Forget it; my classmates have already spoiled the ending.  Part of me is glad that they spoiled it.  Four seasons later you took something good and changed the story into—damn, I tricked myself again.  I’m stalling again.  I should go to school.

I refuse to wear my underwear and I will not brush my teeth; take that mom and dad.  Isn’t this why I decided to take online schooling?  The freedom to control my own hours and take washroom breaks, without the class judging me for going to the washroom three times in one hour.  Do they not understand that sometimes I just want to stretch my legs?

Being independent is hard.

If only there was a way for me to express my thoughts; an outlet. Most influencers use YouTube or Snapchat to express themselves, I have a few favourites that I enjoy and follow.  I don’t want to be in front of the camera, that requires me to wear appropriate clothing. I want to feel the words flow from my mind, to my hands. I got it. I will start a Fight Club.

Oh, an email. The Voice Magazine is looking for a new writer. I have an idea; I will write for the magazine to strengthen my hands before I start my bare-knuckle fight club.  I love it; I will start right away.  Can my fingers grow callus from typing?  I will Google it