The alarm clock wailed like a banshee, piercing through my skull and dragging me out of a half-assed dream where life wasn't just about hustling. I peeled my eyes open to the bare walls of my room, the posters hanging on for dear life, a mismatched tapestry of teenage rebellion and cheap decor. I felt a surge of resentment towards the clock, the room, the world. Why did I have to wake up to this reality every damn day?
I reached for the clock, slamming the snooze button with more force than necessary. I lay back on the bed, feeling the springs dig into my back. I closed my eyes, hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep, but the dream was gone. Instead, I was left with a nagging sense of dread, knowing that I had to face another day of grinding.
I rolled out of bed, feeling the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath my feet. I shuffled to the bathroom, avoiding the cracks and the loose nails. I splashed some water on my face, hoping to wash away the sleep and the bitterness. I looked at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at me. I had bags under my eyes, a stubble on my chin, and a scar on my cheek. I looked older than my nineteen years, worn out by the struggle.
I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and put on some clothes. I didn't bother to check if they matched or if they were clean. I didn't have the luxury of caring about such things. I had bigger problems to worry about. Tuition, books, and the whole circus of adulting – I juggled them like a broke magician, hoping not to drop the damn ball.
I grabbed my backpack and headed to the kitchen, where Lisa was already making breakfast. She was my sister, my roommate, and my best friend. She was also the only person who understood what I was going through. She had dropped out of college to work at a diner, sacrificing her dreams to help me chase mine. She was the reason I kept going, even when everything seemed hopeless.
"Hey, bro. You look like shit." She greeted me with a smile, handing me a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.
"Thanks, sis," I replied, forcing a smile back. I took a bite of the food, feeling the warmth and the saltiness in my mouth.
"Anytime. So, how was your night? Did you have any interesting dreams?" She asked, sitting across from me at the table.
"Not really. Just the usual. You know, the one where life isn't just about hustling." I said, shrugging.
"Oh, yeah. That one. I have it sometimes too. It's nice, isn't it?" She said, nodding.
"Yeah, it is. But then the alarm clock goes off and ruins everything." I said, sighing.
"I know, right? Stupid alarm clock. Always ruining our dreams." She said, rolling her eyes.
We laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. We both knew that the alarm clock wasn't the real problem. It was the system, the society, the world. The world that didn't care about us, that didn't give us a fair chance, that didn't let us be happy.
We finished our breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and got ready to leave. I checked the time, realizing that I was running late. I had to catch the bus to the college, a trek that felt longer every damn day. The commute was my time to wrestle with the financial monsters that haunted my thoughts.
"Hey, I gotta go. I'll see you later, okay?" I said, hugging Lisa.
"Okay, bro. Have a good day. And don't forget to call me if you need anything." She said, hugging me back.
"I won't. And you too. Take care of yourself, okay?" I said, letting go of her.
"I will. Love you, bro." She said, smiling.
"Love you too, sis," I said, smiling back.
I shoved my way through the creaky front door of our worn-out house, its peeling paint a testament to the years it had stood witness to our struggle.
The small-town quiet wrapped around me as I headed to the bus stop, a few blocks away from our house. The sun was just starting its shift, painting the town with hues of promise. But promises don't pay the bills or put food on the table. I knew better than to fall for the illusion of hope.
The bus arrived, packed with people like me, trying to make a living in a world that didn't want us. I squeezed in, finding a seat next to a window. I plugged in my earphones, drowning out the noise and the chatter. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, but I couldn't. My mind was racing with thoughts of the day ahead.
College wasn't some intellectual playground for me. It was a battleground where I fought to balance dreams and dollar bills.
But I wasn't alone in this fight. I had my three musketeers—Mike, the comic relief who had my back when the world decided to throw curveballs; Jane, the crush that lived in my daydreams because reality had too many barriers; and Nick, Lisa's man, adding a layer of complication to our trio.
They were my friends and my rivals. They were the ones who made college bearable. They were the ones who made me who I was.
The afternoon sun began its descent as I made my way back to the bus stop, tired but satisfied. I had survived another day of grinding.
I boarded the bus, finding a seat next to the window. I plugged in my earphones, tuning in to the music and the lyrics. I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of accomplishment, but also a sense of longing.