It’s 6:45 a.m., and I’m asleep, savoring my first non-Clash Royale dream in a week. Still asleep, I look around, noticing flashes of blurry color and jumbled text. I’m in a lucid dream!

Then my gaze drops down, and suddenly I’m conscious of my hands, my feet, my phone, my Clash Royale app open … four cards in hand and 10 elixir in the bank?!

My eyes sweep up the phone’s screen, resting on my opponent’s three towers, which stand across the arena, mocking me. Thinking quickly, I drop my six-cost Elite Barbarians card at the bridge. Now I have four elixir.

My beautiful Elite Barbarians sprint across the bridge to attack my opponent’s left tower. The Princess on the tower shoots her puny arrows, which barely dent my Barbarians’ hitpoints.

My elixir bar fills slowly as I wait in suspense for my opponent’s response. Five elixir. Now six … I hover my finger over my Rage Spell card, waiting, waiting.

Wait, my opponent isn’t playing any cards! My barbarians smash his left Princess Tower, then his central King Tower for a three crown victory! I’ve won! I’ve won! The battle finishes, and a beautiful supermagical chest appears in my chest slot in slow motion.

My alarm rings at 7:15 a.m., waking me from my tranquil dream. I smash the alarm and rub the bleariness out of my eyes. Then excitement grips me. I can’t wait to request 40 more Elite Barbarian cards from my clan!

Clash Royale loads. The chest of cards that unlocked overnight springs open. I donate a total of 40 cards to my clanmates’ requests, then I request 40 Elite Barbarians of my own.

Time just flies by. After only six matches, it’s 7:45. I have to hurry to dress now, or I’ll be late to school and get another detention.

I still get to physics class at 8:17.

Physics is a terrible bore, so I just think of Clash Royale and doodle my time away. Before long, tutorial starts. By then, I’ve gotten six pairs of Elite Barbarians drawn on my paper. Their glorious cartoonish figure and yellow mustache soothe the pain of the physics test I got back during the period.

I pack up my bag and sprint to the library to grab a spot on the only comfortable couch. Some kid looks at me funny for panting while collapsing into the couch, but I don’t let him distract me from my intense matches of Clash Royale.

My first opponent is a filthy Royal Giant user, but with my flawless gameplay, extreme skill and high-leveled Elite Barbarians, I take down all his towers for a three crown victory. My opponent quits in frustration, so I spam the laughing face emoji at him to show him my respect. A huge grin splits my lips and I start laughing hysterically.

My second opponent is a dirty, no-skill noob Lava Hound user. I take his left tower and he takes my right in the first three minutes of the game, and things look about even when the game drags on into overtime in the fourth minute.

With just 30 seconds left to spare, my opponent three-crowns me with his disgusting over-leveled Balloon! What a card.

I let out a string of curses as my opponent “pays me some respect” by plastering the screen with crying emojis. I hear my friends laughing at me across the library aisle. My blood pressure starts rising — I’m fist-poundingly, blood-vessel-poppingly enraged.

I look up. Whoops, it’s already 10:18. I can’t do homework with only two minutes to spare in tutorial, so I head over to Mrs. Warmuth’s room for calculus. Somehow, a whole 33 minutes just passed.

The day drags by, and I don’t even play Clash Royale during lunch because instead I have to do the APUSH notes I procrastinated on. Who even has time for APUSH when they could be taking towers and crushing noobs?

It’s 2:15 now, and I’m supposed to be doing homework in the library before cross country practice starts. I read somewhere that work is supposed to be easier if you get your blood pressure up, so I flip out my phone again and boot up Clash Royale for the fifth time.

This time my opponent’s using Elite Barbarians, like me, so I know he’ll probably be highly skilled, also like me. I match him blow for blow until the middle of the battle when the WiFi cuts out and a little red low wifi symbol flashes on the screen, taunting me. When the game finally connects again, all my towers are smashed and my opponent’s spamming the laughing emote. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. My heart’s pumping.

Five hours later, it’s 8 p.m. I ran pretty badly during cross-country practice, so the coach recommended that I take some salt pills to get my electrolyte levels up. He doesn’t know that my salt levels are actually too high from playing Clash Royale.

Now, homework starts. I’m up until 2 a.m., but I get a small reprieve at 9:15 when I get to request 40 Elite Barbarians again. English and AP Chemistry are familiar enemies now, just like over-leveled Royal Giants and Hog Riders.

Man, junior year sucks.

I collapse into bed at 2:15, dreaming peaceful dreams of Clash Royale and blissfully knowing that just five hours later I can live the same day over again.