Good morning.

Oh fuck! I’m gonna be late; I hate being late. Threw the blanket aside, sprang from my bed and ran into the bathroom to grab my brush. Brushing is such a chore! All that spit and rinse and gargle... ugh! Somebody switch the water heater on! I’m fucking late! Why didn’t anybody wake me up?!…

Sunday morning. Where’s the motivation??

My eyes were forcibly exposed to sunlight from the windows telling me it's morning already and I'm late. Eyelids, lazy as hell refused to open up, well, they have no choice anyway. My hands searched all over the bed to find my phone but couldn't. Time for eye and hand coordination has come but they…