I love to sleep. My bed is so soft and warm and comfortable. I’m a side sleeper, so I curl up with the covers wrapped tightly around me like a complicated knot. When I was a teenager, I hated getting up in the morning. I would leave it to the very last second, with just enough time to wash, brush, eat, and walk to school.

I still hate to get up in the morning, but I understand now that it has more to do with depression than preference. It’s very easy to roll over and go back to sleep when you don’t have anywhere to be. It’s very easy to sleep away the day when nothing you do matters anyway.

When I stay at my parents’s house, I sleep on an IKEA futon. It’s a hard mattress and not that big. It’s very easy to get out of that bed because that bed is not very comfortable. This last stay also happened to coincide with a weird sleep problem I was having: waking up far too early in the morning.

So I just started getting up. When you’re up that early, you have to find something to do to fill the day, so I took a walk. Now that I’m home, back in my comfortable bed, I’m still waking up early. And now I’m getting up early. I’m even taking a walk early.

I think my medication is turning me into a morning person.