If its one thing I hate its getting out of bed in the mornings. The outside of my room is the bane of my existence. I abhor it, because, in fact, it is a whore. Everything that is not your bedroom gives you superficial pleasure for a short amount of time and in the end, you’ve been robbed. I’ll tell you why….
Have you ever lied awake in bed on a Saturday morning, thinking, I know I’ve slept for twelve hours, but I just don’t want to move? I have. It’s annoying because that’s when all my intelligent thoughts come to me. When I’m alone in bed, trying to avoid getting out and starting my day. All the intellectual and philosophical ideas and arguments come rushing to me and I say to myself if only people could see how broad my mind is. By the time I do get out of bed, I have wasted all my energy; everything is gone. I blame the day for taking away my intellectuality, or at least leaving me with only two percent of what I had in the morning before getting out of bed.
If the real world was a paper towel I would, first spit on it, rip it up and then burn it. It’s no true friend of mine. Everything does not happen for a reason let alone for the best.