The morning is an odd mistress. She's lovely when the sun rises and serene as we trudge through whatever kind of weather we're experiencing at the moment, and she disregards our bitching like any boss would.
Why exactly I'm ranting like a feminist rapper, I can't answer. The reason I can't answer is cause I don't fucking know. Lay off. Its 7 am and I'm 18.
The point of this blog post as less about being hostile and more learning to love the morning, however.
This is my second cup of coffee, and the caffeine is barely beginning to rile my system, but in this strange, half-lucid state I've figured out something vitally important to a high number of the adult population: mornings don't suck. We suck.
The morning don't give a shit if you woke up at five today, or of daylight savings fucked you up. What I'd the morning but the earth turning, giving the illusion the sun rose?
Breakfast? Showers? Changing clothes? Leaving your warm and fluffy bed?
The last part is the hardest and I promise the morning won't bite after you've done it. We've just gotta stop complaining about the morning for the morning to run smoothly.
Today will be fine.
Promise.
With love,
Nick Strange.
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