God, I hate mornings. There are days, mostly mornings (every morning), when it seems that being dead would feel more alive. Somehow I manage to drag the corpse that is myself out of bed and into the office. Somehow I manage to go through the motions.
When I tell people that I am ‘doing better’, ‘feeling fine’, ‘having some good days, actually’, it is true, but those statements relate to my day as a whole. Not to the mornings. Never to the mornings.