In the morning I wake, I wonder what the day could bring and what I could bring it. The sheets in their ever-loving embrace tell me everything is all right and that there is no need to leave my safe abode. I split into my dual consciousness, and we debate amongst each other "Is this day worth fighting for? Or should I let the numbness of sleep carry me away again into the safety of my dreams?" Dreams, those wonderful fantasy lands were logic and reason take a back seat to pure primal emotion and adventures of the most sublime. But when dreams cease to exist thoughts emerge to replace their fuzzy fervor. These thoughts are more or less influence by the amount of light coming through the tiny crack of a window in my bedroom. The grayer the light shines, the worse I feel, and the brighter it glows the more I glow as I rise out of my soft haven to face the day and whatever joys or tragedies it might bring to me. Everyone has a different morning experience, this is mine almost every day.
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