Tales of Fake

It's seven thirty in the morning and I'm here. I should be heading off to class, but I'm not. I woke up like thirty minutes ago, went to the bathroom and simply stared at the mirror. I'm mad at the mirror now. Or I should be saying I'm mad at myself. I hate the way I look right now. I don't want to go outside today. I feel like staying at home, sleeping all day (basically like I did yesterday) and doing nothing at all. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to sleep this off (even though I've slept more than 12 hours already). Maybe a couple of more hours will do the trick. Besides, if I went, I'd have to sit there and pretend I've done things and read things I should have done and read, but didn't. Why bother? I feel ill. Not as if I'm going to be sick, but as if my will had been sucked out of my being. I want this day to be over and it hasn't even begun.