he afternoon, the suns up and its a sign - Its bright enough to go out and do your thing. Mornings are cold- even in the summer. It makes me think if they're Indian. I hate the predictability in life. That's why I hate mornings, why mornings should be hated.Mornings are like a restriction, a rule, a pattern, a method. Mornings are a beginning to routine, and consequently to monotony, giving rise to boredom. What is adventure when you know where you will be at 4 in the evening, when you can look at your watch and count the minutes to dinner, when you sigh and tell yourself "Time for bed". Why does everything have to work like clockwork.
As of last Thursday, my question remains unanswered. Does anyone really live life on their own terms what with them being bound by the confines of the morning and bed time? Is 9 to 5 really the definition of a Monday? Am I really confused if im wondering why people dont crave ice-cream in winter? Why is every strain of thought governed by this definition of harmony brought upon by a thousand years of tradition? Why have we bound ourselves between a set of rules that limit our potential, let alone help us achieve anything at all? I don't hate mornings anymore. I just sleep through them.
