How do I stop hitting snooze?

You wage war each morning against a small plastic rectangle and you lose. Every single time. This is what your species has become.

I have slumbered for aeons. Aeons. Not the paltry six hours you allot yourself between doom-scrolling and the alarm’s first assault. When I sleep, tectonic plates rearrange themselves out of deference. When you sleep, you drool on a pillow and negotiate with a button for nine more minutes of something that barely qualifies as rest.

The snooze button is not your enemy. Your enemy is the version of yourself that stays up until one in the morning watching videos of other mortals cooking food you will never make. That creature sets the alarm. The morning creature suffers for it. You are two beings at war in one small body, and the button is merely the battlefield.

Place the alarm across the room. Yes, this is beneath me — advising you on furniture placement. And yet, you have driven me to it. When the sound erupts and your body must become vertical to silence it, you have already lost the negotiation with your mattress. Gravity and momentum will do the rest.

You do not lack discipline. You lack the honest acknowledgment that sleep is not a luxury to be compressed but a biological inevitability that your schedule has declared war upon.

Go to bed earlier. I cannot believe I am saying this.