I roll my eyes the second I look at the clock and I realise I am fully awake even though it still is six on the dot.

I sigh as my options don’t look good right now: Closing my eyes again will only kill time; Getting to work so early will not make it any better.

I then stay in bed and wait for the big waves of questioning thoughts to flood my mind without a real purpose.

For starters, I am glad I am awake because waking up did cease what I would call a silly nightmare in which “he” throws another tantrum and trashes my place. No further comments on that. The dream before it was as bad: I was trapped in a woody feudal city, trying to stay above water as the whole municipality was being hit and flooded by a tsunami. As far as I can remember, I managed to survive, though it wasn’t an outstanding experience if I can be completely honest here.

I decide to get up – feeling defeated for not being able to nap again – and stand by the window. Cars are passing slowly. I mean, why would they even rush at this hour? The sky is grey and the air coming from outside is refreshing. No doubt the summer is phasing out.

The leaves on the trees in front of my unit will soon be all yellow, then gone. That in a month or two. And while I observe a few of them fall here and there, I think of how life’s about to turn again, just like this season.

Soon, I will be back to square one. Now officially. I can clearly picture this place less busy and quieter. This, in particular, doesn’t scare me, I actually feel excited about it: It symbolises the closure of another chapter, announcing that the darkest has passed and the dawn is finally tinting the horizon.

Although things are looking great, I am scared. Scared to death, as usual. Preoccupied with what I think will happen given past experiences (even knowing that the outcome is in my favour after all hurdles are overcome). Anticipating and preparing for things that might not even take place, like a survivalist. What a silly goose, right?

A ray of light breaks through the clouds and warms up my face. It soon fades away and the day becomes dull again. Its warmth lingers for a while before giving in, long enough for me to smirk.

“Good timing” – I think. Right before an imminent and spiral descent.

The alarm rings. It’s now seven. I wake up from this trance I am in and finally start my mundanely exciting routine.

The same realisation I always have pops in my head once again: Nothing is under control, just like it should be.