I am dead.
I have been the lifeless remains of my formal self for nine hours.
My cold clammy body lies here, I am unable to think, hear, feel, smell, touch, or move.
Ten hours ago, I lay down my head to rest, and just as my eyelids shut, I died.

The alarm clock screams.
I am alive.
My senses rush back to me likes moths scurry to light.
I hear the fan whooshing behind my bed.
I feel its cold blow make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I taste my own dry mouth after hours of dormancy.
I stand up and blood rushes to my head, I realize it’s a Monday.
Now I wish I were still dead.