Over come your obsticles and defend yourself.

The chronicles of a day: the first feeling of the morning.

So tired. Sitting with legs crossed, listening but not quite hearing.
The kettle is boiling. The radio as ambiant. The morning is taking action around me. It's still befor noon, that Still makes it morning, right?
Whatever. Doesn't matter much. Don't care much for the technicalities.
The younge man sits beside me, munching away on some toast and jam whilst he is engrossed in the paper. He doesn't pay me much attention now and I'm alright with that. Morning is not the time to be demanding attention from others. It's the time of waking up. I know that I have no care about anyone other than myself in the morning. I thinknof nothing other than my own comfort, getting my own food, my own tea. I couldn't care less about some one sitting next to me, because in the morning, those first fifteen to thirty minutes of the day are for me. Does that make me a horrible person? Let me wake up for a bit before I start asking questions.