My brain doesn't process reality. My body doesn't realize I'm awake. My eyes can't read words or get used to bright lights. My vocal chords and tongue won't do talk good.
All of this severely damages my already inferior skills at surviving the day. This is bad. Very bad.
It all begins with the alarm. That awful alarm. That alarm that sounds like it's vomiting a plethora of short-circuiting robots into my ears every morning. It never successfully tunes into any radio station. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's just a huge asshole.
Eventually, spurred on by the need to throw my clock across the room, I manage to extract myself from my sexy, warm blankets and immerse myself in the cold, dark world of morning. Upon exiting my room, the cruel truth of life hits me: I cannot overcome simple obstacles when inebriated by lack of sleep.
I speak the truth. Also, it's vital to keep in mind that it is dark as the inside of an dried cow bladder in my house in the morning. My natural survival instincts, such as the ability to switch on the lights, escape me at this time of day. The stairs are just the beginning. When I manage to reach my kitchen, I am greeting by my own personal Happy Morning Welcome Wagon.
The impossibility of the day begins to dawn on me. After shoving breakfast down my sleeping throat, and doing other stuff that happens in the morning, I proceed to the bus stop. There I am greeted by my neighbor, whom I go to school with. He always has way more energy than me.
After this point, the day becomes a total blur of unfocused classes and social interactions that I usually don't even remember later. I exist merely as a blob of living matter sitting in the midst of a world I'm not really mentally connected to.
It's a lifestyle. I'm not saying it's a good one, but... you know. It's mine. So hop off beeyotch.
