#iwokeuplikethis

I feel most hopeful at seven AM on Saturday mornings.

Clad in a deep purple bathrobe,

An old school T-shirt, and gray pajama pants,

I rise from bed and stretch my short, tense limbs

The hours ahead of me are full of possibilities.

As the sky fills with sunlight (or stays cloudy

Depending on the bipolar weather)

I slip on my square glasses and wonder: What shall I do today?

Should I lazily flip through a fashion magazine

And admire the glossy, colorful pictures?

Or maybe I will read nostalgic passages

From a favorite childhood novel

But the dark cloud of necessary homework looms over me

English, Spanish, Chinese, environmental science

I don't want to do it.

The truth is, I enjoy learning

But I dread working like my mom dreads tax day

I'd rather read poems on my own instead of for AP English

I obsess over British Romantic poetry

William Wordsworth is my favorite

I long to visit the English Lake District

I dream of wandering winding yellow paths

Under a pure blue sky

And seeing lush green fields, and

Gentle rolling hills, and

Crystalline blue lakes, and, of course,

Bright, dancing daffodils

I'm a Romantic, not a romantic

There's a difference. I appreciate the

Sublime, divine beauty of nature, but

I also acknowledge its dark powers.

I have great faith in the imagination

Whenever my life becomes difficult,

I lose myself in my fictional worlds

Where my fictional characters come to life

These figures speak, act, grow, and interact

I'm not crazy. I know they're not real

Because I plant myself firmly in reality

Just like a tree's roots are anchored into the ground

I scorn sappy, mawkish tales of romance

Love is amazing, but not perfect

Just like myself