It’s 11:33 P.M. I tread into the stillness of my dark house and tip toe up the stairs into my sanctuary. I feel like I am in a place of serenity amidst what is usually related to a hectic city of household members. It is the first time I have been in my bedroom since I left my house at 6:30 this morning. I just sat down to write this essay. I wasn't out shopping or spending countless hours with friends, nor was I staring blankly at a TV screen, catching up on the latest teenage dramas on ABC Family. This is merely the first time all day I have had to myself, and as most of my peers are already tucked away under their crisp sheets, I have only just started checking off my list of mundane teenage tasks.
5:20 AM every day, the worst sound wakes me up, literally like clockwork. You know, the sound that everybody loathes. The sound, no matter what you have it set to on your alarm, brings that perfect dream to a screeching halt. And no, I know what you are thinking, I don't hit the snooze button. There is no time for snooze in my life. I feel as though it were just two seconds ago that my eyes were drawing heavy, and now I am waking up not even realizing that this week's vocabulary packet has already accumulated a puddle of drool on it. I manage to peel myself out of bed, crawl over my still sleeping sister and stumble blindly to the bathroom. I reach out for my toothbrush. Goodness knows I might pick up the wrong one out of the six others in the cup. Back to my room I go and sit down in front of my mirror. Ten more minutes until the others start to rise one by one and wake up like a microwave bag of popcorn, until the house is full, and turns into a game of dodge-ball, everyone running around, trying to steer clear of each other. I make my way to the kitchen as I am rushing out my door and look in the pantry for a quick breakfast snack. Nothing. My cupboards are starved by recession.
7:20 A.M and my day feels like it has already been tattered and endless. I must have a slight case of “senioritis”. Unlike many of my friends, though, I was able to avoid the seemingly dreadful disease early and take on a full schedule with honors classes year long. Study, study, study! Write! Read! Respond! Test! Quiz! Study some more! My brain is overpowered with the knowledge in textbooks and papers. My thoughts run through streams of friction like a Picasso, bouncing off the walls inside my cerebellum, and somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, try to find a place to stay and be remembered.

2:45 PM. Sweat is already dripping off of me and onto the floor. Muscles in my body are aching in places that I had no clue were feasible. Conditioning. Tumbling. Stunting. Dancing. Cheering. I'm yelling until my voice goes out and becomes disguised by what sounds like a fifteen year smoker. Leading. More sweat. The clock is running time, and before I know it, I have to leave my team early, and head out to work.

9:00 PM. I line up the edges of a tee shirt. Right fold, left fold, semi fold, pause; look up. “Hi welcome to, Pac Sun, how are you doing tonight?! Let me know if there is something I can help you find”, continue; fold in the sleeves slightly, and fold up. I am halfway dead. All my last energy has been poured out onto the sales floor of my work. Must, stay awake. Pull down gate. Sweep, put away go backs. Clean zone one. Tidy up shop two. Size the denim wall that looks like it just regurgitated all of the jeans that had been fed into it's shelves. Clock out. 10:45 PM.

11:33 PM. I sit here in my room and reminisce on my younger years. I reflect back and say farewell to my childhood that is now so far out of reach that I can no longer taste the flavoring of that last orange Flinstone push pop as I basque in the sun on the steps of my grandmothers pool. No more time for childish play. No more sitting around and enjoying the simplistic parts of life. I knew as my Senior year was approaching me, the challenges that I planned to carry out, were no easy tasks. My sister once told me I was like ant. Always carrying more than my own load, taking whatever comes at me. Even though they are so miniscule, the work that they do is so elaborate. I knew it would take a lot more than just effort to determine my future. School, cheer, work, homework, repeat. Constant busyness, that in the end will be so worth the lost hours of sleep at night. In the end it comes down to one thing; time.
1:13 AM.