You roll out of bed, curly nutmeg hair grasping at your face. In your eyes, your mouth, a strand had even been swept up into your nose at some point.

You bring a hand up to brush long locks away, clearing olive skin from reaching strands, making your way towards the bathroom door, ready to start the day.

Rubbing closed eyes open, you reach for the sticking doorknob subconsciously. Your body lags, brain not comprehending what's currently going on, and within moments, the door smacks into you.

Or you into it.

Either way, blood now runs from your nose past partially open lips, where a tongue pushes against pearly whites, cleaning crimson liquid that drips down to taint your mouth.

As pink muscle glides past enamel, you notice something.

A missing tooth.

Where a canine once sat was now nothing but a gum, leaving an unsightly, embarrassing gap right in the front of your mouth, drawing unwanted attention to your usually bright smile.

Great.

You continue your original trek to the bathroom, where you somehow end up flushing a hair tie down the toilet, which would be fine, except it's your last one and you don't have time to go out and buy anymore.

And your hair is unmanageable, hence the need for the hair tie, leaving you with a tangled mop surrounding delicate features and a lost will to continue getting ready.

You brush your hand through rough hair, hoping it'll do something because you can't find your hairbrush anywhere and there's no time for hide and seek, but all you manage to do is pull at the mess, a couple strands falling out from the force.

Frustrated and annoyed, you reach for your eyebrow pencil, hoping desperately that it would be your saving grace, that makeup would heal all wounds.

But as your hand jerks and your left brow becomes a kindergarten art project, you feel anger rising, bubbling just beneath the surface, crescendoing against a dropping heart.

Staring into the bathroom mirror blankly, face void of emotion, you let the eyebrow pencil fall onto the sink top, swallowing harshly to combat the emotion you were feeling inside.

The exhaustion, the anger, it was nearly overwhelming, swallowing you down against your will, much like the day's sufferings.

And as you continue to stare down the reflection in the mirror, your mouth quivering in the slightest, defeated manner, you hear the soft ding from your back pocket.

Grabbing the phone from it's hiding place, you pull it up to your face, opting to stare at the device instead of the defeat, and the words splayed across the screen make your eyes twitch.

It's a horoscope.

Your horoscope.

A small, broken smile tugs at the sides of chapped lips. Eyes watering, you try your best to hold back tears.

"Today is an off day, take care of yourself and stay cautious."