Why I can’t wake up in the morning.

I can’t wake up in the morning because I don’t see anything to wake up for. Not that I’m depressed, I think, but there just isn’t anything in my day to look forward to. I’m not a novelist, poet, musician, artist, doctor, lawyer, banker, or on my way to any of that. I don’t have an exciting hobby, a thrilling social life or a heart-pumping passion that I obsess about day and night. To be honest, there isn’t exactly anything remarkable about my day, and so nothing that will get me jumping out of bed, raring to get to it in a flash.

I can’t wake up in the morning because I can’t sleep at night. Well, not so much can’t as I won’t. I stay up. Late. As in 4am even though I have to get up at 7am kind of late. I wish I could say I’m out there being hip and happening, drinking and partying my liver and lungs away but I’m not. It’s not that I have insomnia or anything either, I just don’t want to sleep sooner than I can tolerate. I don’t do anything particularly meaningful either. I watch seasons worth of sitcoms; on my more useful nights I watch dramas – those have a little more depth to them I suppose. Otherwise I’m refreshing my Facebook feed until my face smashes onto the keyboard or clicking “r” on 9gag until I’ve seen each post at least twice. Or I’m looking up sloths on Youtube.

I can’t wake up in the morning because, well, the nights are so much more beautiful than the day – even if I’m doing useless things. Which kind of says a lot about my day. Ever wished the night would go on forever just so you wouldn’t have to greet the next mind numbing day of going back to your mind numbing job? That’s me every night.

At night, I savour the fact that I’m not writing cringe-worthy copy, dealing with people who have some sort of pharaoh complex, or making conversation with other people who don’t give two fucks about me. I’m doing shit that I want, on the little leisure time I have. And the thing about nights is that you can drag it, pull it as if it were a video clip on an FCP timeline to extend that little me time. Of course, that means it eats into sleep time, which eats into mornings, which is why I never get up in the morning on time.

In 2 weeks I would have finally left my job and hopefully, finally, begin to do what I want. Maybe then I’ll have a bit more motivation to get out of bed in the morning. I can’t handle this crawling out of bed in the mornings and lugging myself to work any longer. 2 weeks could come sooner.


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