Rushed

This was an exercise in producing a single run-on sentence that delivers a story. Don't forget to breathe while reading.

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I wake up in the morning with barely enough time for a sigh, not even a short one that symbolizes the shift from dream to the waking state, this kind of ‘whoof’ that comes out of the lungs and into the light of day and tears apart the cobwebs just before the cold stream of water hits my face, cold and relentless and without mercy, a wake-up slap that brings up the list of tasks I must do and those I must postpone because of lack of time or energy or money, even though these are the tasks that are supposed to give me money and pad my bank account a little more just before I have to pay it back to college for all those classes I have to take to graduate with a degree that might help me make a little bit more money in a job with goals and tasks that would double my need to wake up early, without enough time for a sigh, get into the shower for an icy wake up slap and postpone each and every one of those tasks for lack of time, energy and money.

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Photo credit: Steven Depolo, via Flickr http://tinyurl.com/kzkh2l2