the morning is...


The morning is empty beer bottles, a wine glass, and books strewn upon the floor. The morning is thoughts of the obviousness of it all – the struggle of being alone and the struggle of not being alone. I think that the latter is worse. Alone I create. Alone I think and read and write. I watch films and listen to music. I travel. There is no one to disturb. There is no one I need to ask. There is no one to complain when I am having fun. There is no one to bring me down when I feel strong. The morning is coffee and solitude. The morning is a beautiful thing… Saturday morning, rising from the ashes of the week’s chaos, the phoenix leading us forth with its potential to unravel into whatever we may please.

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