There are days when the world seem like a wonderful place, full of joy and hope. You love who you are, your job (if you have one) is wonderful, and your whole body tingles in anticipation to the new day.

Then, you realise the prozac had kicked in, and you think;

"Thank god for the modern advancement of happy drugs."

The point is, mornings are shitty times. Think; when you wake up in the mornings the sleep dust are still in the corner of your eyes sealing your eye lids together, the list of things you should've done yesterday but didn't, start to pile up mocking your existence, and the worst, you look like a hairball the cat coughed up. See, mornings are bad... unless you've in your possession the above mentioned drug, is 5-yr-old and the world is all new to you, or you are one of those people, you are a morning person *shudders*.

Since I'm considered normal and well adjusted by my doctor, no happy drugs for me. So, I turned to the only legal avenue with all the benefits and few of the flaws. Yes, I found coffee.

So, coffee; two mugs of strong black coffee. No milk. Every morning. That was how I used to survive the day. Coffee was the friend that saw me through the hard times, it turned me from the living zombie to a fully functional human being. I LOVE coffee.

Like all good things, it had to come to an end. I had to give up coffee *cries* you see it dehydrate me too fast and I'd end up with a worse headache than I already did (the nose bleeds probably was a sign too). In tears I had to give up coffee.

Now, I go through the days in a half-brain-dead daze wishing to be alseep in my comfortable bed and hating the mornings like the way I hate double episodes of Passions.

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Brought to you by a very out of it naanima. Need sleep.