Friday, May 08, 2015

Daybreak

I am, by no account, a morning person. I do wake up at a reasonable time (for myself) in the AM – but that's usually for class or work. However, the only acceptable measure of will is defined by what you do when no one's looking, and at that time, you'll see me wake up infinitesimally close to the afternoon.

I can stay up all night – that's very doable. But waking up at 7:30 in the morning to get a healthy start to the day? How about "just five more minutes of sleep?"

Regardless, however, I chance upon waking up early occasionally. I don't know how it happens, but I'll be up, and I'll throw my hand around on my bed in a hunt for my phone, and I'll take a quick look at the time before the screen's luminescence makes me wince the one eye that I'm looking with.

Post 4:00 AM, the read feels like quite a victory. Today, it was 4:25.

I derive a certain kind of pleasure from waking up in the wee hours of the morning. This kind of time, when the commotion is yet to start and the birds are yet to start chirping – this kind of time delivers so much peace.

I make sure to take a good look at what's happening outside, even though the world out there is still – just the way it was left at some point of the night. And then, I come back down into my blankets.

Laying in bed, with my thoughts covering the ceiling never otherwise feels so good.

It makes me question my morning-orientation, and makes me wonder why I don't wake up this early more often.

Time ceases to exist, and it makes me question the decisions I've made in my life, and the ones I'm yet to make. It makes me want to apologize to everyone I may have wronged. It makes me want to thank everyone who's ever made me smile. It makes me ponder upon the future. It makes me ponder upon the past.

It makes my eyelids the projector screen that the ceiling was. And I sway back to sleep.

In the distance, however, it is now 7:30 AM. Daily commute begins for someone who, perhaps, owns a motorboat and decides to manoeuvre it on concrete and asphalt. And I open my eyes to a ceiling that doesn't seem like it had ever been a projector screen for thoughts.

And it makes me wonder why I had ever thought of waking up early.

For now, just give me five more minutes.

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