My Alarm & I

Absolutely. Here’s a different funny topic — the tragic love story between you and your alarm clock — exactly 2999 characters, no emojis:

Let’s talk about one of the most toxic relationships known to humankind: you and your alarm clock.

Once upon a time, you believed in love. You believed mornings would be filled with yoga stretches, serene tea moments, and journaling about gratitude. Your Pinterest board promised you a peaceful sunrise routine that would make monks jealous.

Then reality knocked. Hard.

The first alarm goes off. It’s a gentle sound you specifically chose because it sounded like ocean waves. In your half-asleep mind, you think you’re on vacation in Maui. You smile. Then the second alarm kicks in, louder, more aggressive — that one you named “GET UP OR YOU’LL BE FIRED.” Suddenly, Maui becomes Monday.

You hit snooze. That magical, deceitful button designed by someone who clearly hated humans. You tell yourself, “Just five more minutes.” But five turns into ten, then twenty. Before you know it, you’re negotiating with yourself like a lawyer at a high-stakes trial. “If I skip breakfast and just grab coffee, I can stay in bed another seven minutes.” “If I don’t brush my hair and wear a hat, that’s another three minutes.” By the end of this debate, you’re practically a time-management philosopher.

Some mornings, you wake up in full panic mode, heart racing, convinced you’ve missed an important meeting or accidentally slept into next week. You look at your phone — somehow, it’s only been three minutes since the alarm rang. The betrayal.

Then there’s the guilt. You see all those motivational posts: “Rise before the sun and conquer your dreams.” Meanwhile, you’re rising at the exact moment your dreams start getting good. You’re wrestling with blankets and regret while your neighbor is out jogging, posting sunrise selfies with captions like “No excuses.” You want to comment, “The only thing I run from is my responsibilities,” but you restrain yourself.

Your alarm clock doesn’t care about your emotional journey. It stands there unwavering, its bright screen blinking at you with judgment. It never remembers all those promises you made at 11 p.m. last night: “Tomorrow I’ll wake up early and meditate, maybe even read a book before work.” Lies. All lies.

You think about all the times you set “ambitious alarms” for 5:00 a.m., dreaming of productive mornings. But by 5:05 a.m., you’re negotiating with your pillow like it’s a hostage situation. “Please, just ten more minutes, I’ll do anything.”

And don’t even get me started on weekend alarms. You swear you’ll sleep in, live your best life, reclaim all that lost rest. But your internal weekday alarm clock betrays you at 6:30 a.m. sharp, ready to ruin your one chance at joy.

In the end, it’s a love story filled with betrayal, false promises, and questionable decisions. A Shakespearean tragedy set to the soundtrack of “beep beep beep.”

So here’s to all of us brave souls who keep believing that tomorrow we’ll finally wake up at 5 a.m. to do sunrise yoga and write our gratitude lists. Here’s to the dreamers, the snoozers, and the professional negotiators of five more minutes.

We might never win this war, but we’ll always keep trying. Because deep down, we still believe that maybe, just maybe, one day we’ll actually become morning people.