Another Day Almost Faded

Today was a good day.
It didn't begin that way.
The alarm clock screamed at me much to early,
ripping my lifeless body from the warm, cozy pile of blankets and boyfriend.
I guess lots of free booz and poker until 4 am was not the best idea.
I dressed, in the same clothes from the night before,
and went directly to school.
No make-up touch-ups, my hair was loose and tangled.
I was a pale-faced zombie with dark circles under my eyes,
fighting sleep during class.
It was pulling at my eyelids, ripping them shut.
It tried to paralyze my body.
I used what was left of my energy to try and take notes.
Looking at them now, none even make sense.
I guess that's what you get when you're narcoleptic in the first place
and get no sleep, ever.
I tried to fight it, but sleep always wins.
Eventually, it did.
It was a good day today because nothing happened. Nothing bad, nothing stressful.
I came home, leaped into my mound of red satin sheets,
and that's all I remember.
Until now.
Here I am, eating a bowl of pistacio-almond ice cream,
thinking about how sick I am, thinking that this day was a good one
because I slept through it.
When I sleep, I forget about everything for a while.
Alcohol, drugs, and sleep.
They put me in a coma and make the time pass, but I feel like I'm lacking wholesomeness.
Are those things really making me happier?
I need to get out in the sun and experience again.
This sedentary way of "life" is only going to furthur my depression.
There aren't too many 60 degree days in November.
Here's to self-reflection.
3:25 and it's finally time for my good day to really begin.