Circadian

Eliot lay on his bed. The blinds shut the moonlight from entering, and his room door closed to the late night stirring of his suitemates. For now, it was only the little green flashing light of the smoke detector, and the eerie glow of Eliot's labtop computer, slowly playing his playlist of Coldplay.

Eliot sits up, and turns his head to his desk clock. 4:02AM. "One of those nights again," he sighs to himself. As he gets out of his bed, Eliot looks at the stack of paper messily compiled in the TO-DO box, clearly the only offending piece of his otherwise neatly kept room. After a slight hesitation, Eliot elects to not to dig into the pile. "I'll get to it tomorrow," he reassures himself.

"What to do now then?"

He thinks of the past; his life has just been a blur. A messy collage assembled with only half the effort, and a fourth of the time. As he sits in front of his computer, Eliot rubs his eyes, so many questions. Where did his motivation go? Where is his youthful drive? What is he doing with his life?

Coldplay's The Scientist comes on:

Nobody said it was easy.

Nobody ever said it would be so hard.

Oh, take me back to the start.

It was time for Eliot to go back to the start. As the song ended, Eliot climbed back into bed, awaiting his fresh start, one that would come with the newborn sun of tomorrow.