After Life

13

Fuck my entire existence.

This statement had repeatedly echoed in my brain since the moment my eyes opened this morning. I came awake slowly, gradually, as the dull, darkened light of my bedroom caused me to believe it was still the early hours of the morning. It wasn't until I rolled over, tucking my hands under my head and sighed contentedly from the comforts of my bed that I actually fluttered my eyes open in the direction of my clock to see that it was in fact almost an hour later than I was supposed to have woken up.

Fuck my life.

I didn't have time to investigate why my alarm clock had not gone off that morning, as the moment my mind registered the fact that I was completely and horribly late for my final assignment class, I was in a complete panic. Throwing the covers off my body, I launched myself out of the bed like a rocket, almost falling onto the floor in the process. Stumbling, still groggy, into the bathroom, I brushed my teeth quickly, splashing water on my face hastily, before running back into my room.

I pulled on jeans and a sweater from the small pile of clean clothes that I had set in the corner of my room, before throwing my hair into a ponytail as I rushed into the living room. Of course, I hadn't had the foresight to pack up my book bag the night before after deciding to be a studious college student and work ahead on a few assignments. I shoved my books, notebook, pens and the like into my bag, barely zipping it up before heading for the door.

I almost tripped rushing down the stairs of my building, the cold, concrete stairwell hazardous in my haste and sleep hazed state.  Bursting into the New York morning, I groaned loudly when I realized the reason it had been so dark in my room that morning was because it was snowing. Heavily. It was practically a blizzard outside as I turned and began to make my way towards class.

It was a short walk, usually no more than fifteen or twenty minutes on any given day. But since the class had already started about five minutes ago, I needed to cut that time in half. I trudged quickly through the snow, my boots slipping and sloshing through the white fluff on the ground. Flakes clung to my jacket, to my hair, and chilled my skin. I could feel the winter wind sting my cheeks, my breath short and shallow against the icy freeze it caused in my lungs. Each exhale produced a little puff of air in front of me, as I kept my eyes forward.

Of course, as always when you're in a rush, you seem to have the knack for getting stuck behind slow walkers, chatters, and general slow pokes. I swear to God I had to mentally convince myself on more that one occasion not to just shove some Wall street wanker out of my way when he was more interested in keeping his thousand dollar shoes clean of snow than moving his ass along the sidewalk.

I felt a small sense of relief when I found myself only a block from my lecture hall. The end was in sight, and soon I would be inside, out of the cold, and hopefully able to sneak into the back row silently without being noticed.

Just as I crossed the street, stepping up onto the sidewalk again, my boot lost all traction on the ground beneath me. Before I had a chance to register what was happening, I felt myself fall backwards, my arms and legs flailing outwards. I landed quickly, and painfully, onto my backside, the air knocking out of my lungs at the impact. It took me a moment to actually realize I was in fact on the snowy, wet ground, as some people stopped to stare, some people kept walking, and two people stopped to help me up.