My mornings generally begin well.
Sometimes they don’t.
On these mornings
It takes me a couple of hours to collect myself. To slow myself down.
If I’m not out the door by 9am
Nothing outdoors gets done for the day.
Call it laziness. Call it anxiety.
Call it what you will.
I begin writing as soon as I am able
While my mind is still alight from the morning.
By the time late morning arrives
I can feel it coming on.
I begin to feel physically tired.
My writing ability dwindles
With each passing minute.
By the time the afternoon rears its’ ugly head
I am in the mood for not much at all.
I sway from reading to recording music.
Television holds no interest. I have seen it all before.
I spend the remainder of the afternoon watching the clock
Waiting for the night to arrive.
When it finally arrives I begin to feel alive again.
My imagination and motivation returns.
I begin to write again.
I struggle to keep up with my mind
But I do.
Before long it is 3am.
I am afraid to go to bed
In case I can’t sleep and have one of ‘those’ mornings.
I have deduced that it is on such mornings
That my afternoons drag.