#118

The mornings are always the worst. They’re the times before the shield is up, before I’m ready and capable of looking outside and dealing with all the problems and all the good things of the day ahead. There’s something much too…naked about the morning. There aren’t any shields, there is no hiding. There is only yourself and the emotions (or, as recently, the lack thereof) of the night before.

There is something about that lack that bothers me a great deal.