I like to imagine you waking up to your alarm blaring, a wretched wake-up call. You roll over and contemplate snoozing it, but you ultimately rise to open your blinds. You get back into bed, hitting your vape and bringing your blankets back around you. You take a sip of water from the Minecraft cup I got you for our first Valentine's Day, then decide you want a cup of coffee. Getting out of bed and turning on the Keurig I got you for Christmas is such a task, but you rise to the occasion like the superstar you are. You place the mug I made you in the perfect spot to catch the coffee brewing from the K-cups that were also a part of your Christmas present. You glance at the door, where my schedule is taped, and roll your eyes. You've been meaning to take that down, but for some reason, you haven't. You open your fridge that used to have a magnet of my face on the door and shut it almost as quickly as you decided to leave me. You don't put anything in your coffee, you just brace yourself for the bitterness and pretend you like it even when no one is watching. You try to pick out what to wear for the day and throw on a random pair of shorts (probably not clean) and avoid the hoodie I got you for our one year. You almost reach for the one I gave to you for your birthday, but you decide that your gray hoodie from high school will suffice. After you finish your (our?) coffee, you leave the mug on your desk on top of the notebook that I used to leave notes in. You check the time on your wall clock, making sure not to look at the multitude of index cards tacked to your wall with doodles of hearts and 'i love you'. It's time for class, per the schedule I made for you. You grab your backpack I helped you pick out, and put an airpod in each ear. You click shuffle, but the first two songs that play are ones that frequented our car rides. You shake your head, wishing you could forget me, but you listen to the songs anyway, texting me on your way out of the door.
