I lay in bed at night exhausted but unable to find sleep. It tugs at me and tries to drown me but at the same time consciousness is foreboding me to go. And when I wake up to a blaring alarm the only thing that gets me out of bed is a worn string pulling me up and into clothes and to school and back into bed. And every day it’s the same thing, this string, that’s slowly wearing its self-down, pulling me, programming me.  And I am being pulled by it, a stone weighing it down until one day it’ll break. And there will be nothing to pull me out of bed, and I will lay there. Forever.