Awakening from a maze of deep thoughts, confused and undecided between reality and dreams. I struggle to recognise a faint buzzing sound, which soon enough increases in volume to a startling alarm. My heart beat races as I furiously search for the clock. Which at this point has become so loud the whole house has woken up. I finally grasp a tall silver mechanism and slam the nearest buttons until it eventually stops. I sigh in relief and slump back under the warm duvets. Saturday morning. I lay still for a minuet taking in the atmosphere of the room. Light glistens on the rims of my tilted blind creating the illusion of water on my windowsill. A row of neatly arranged, polished trophies stand in order of size either side a photograph of a treasured moment of success, framed in pine. I smile to my self until my eyes wander to the not so organised pile of clothes and tack scattered on the floor. I drag myself out from under the covers and roll out of bed, slowly gaining my balance. The cold encloses on my body sending shivers under my skin I scuttle into the hall to turn on the heating then return to my room. I attempt to clear some of the mess but even the simplest task seems too much of an effort and almost mind-boggling at this time on a morning. So I resort to the bathroom to wash and wake myself up. I cup the running water into my hands and splash my face. It hits my cheeks like a thousand knives, gasping for breath I grab the towel to clear my eyes and continue to get ready. I ignore details of texture feelings and sound’s of everything I use or touch taking everything familiar for granted without a second thought. I gradually get a sense of organisation and routine. The scent of burnt toast reaches my room that explains where mum is!
