Buenos Morning

i remember waking up for high school and feeling nauseous. i'd get up at like 5.30 with sandpaper eyes, stumble to my closet (which was usually just all over my floor), grab something haphazardly, hop in my car--freeze, because my car never got to be in the garage because it wasnt a lexus)--then meet my similarly bleary-eyed father at deidrich coffee (r.i.p.). we'd share the morning together over a large coffee [raw sugar] and a bagel that i wouldn't eat until after third period. routine//routine//routine//where have you gone?