Ready for Morning.


Photo: don’t call me betty on tumblr/via Pinterest

I was supposed to go to this this morning, a morning “rave,” (straight) with yoga and dancing and juice. How fun!

Yesterday two of the friends who were maybe going to join told me that they weren’t. It made me feel sad/mad.

So immature.

How old am I anyways, 14?

It’s not right to be mad “at” them…and I’m not…though a few bails in a row (there was more than this) can sting a bit. But it brought up a certain anger/loneliness that’s been building (read: hanging around for much of my life but really obvious and strong right now). It reminded me that, mostly, people aren’t with me on this “morning” thing…and in fact mostly I’m on a different schedule than people all around. The amount of times I’ve gotten up and gone for coffee, walks, etc. in the mornings during my life—well I do it all the time, because I like the way I feel in the morning. But mostly people don’t come with.

Even if there is someone next to me, they pretty much never come with me. 

I am a morning person. Not in that betty crocker way — I’m not perky necessarily. I just like it. I feel fuzzy sometimes, but clear. There is hope in a morning.

I’ve been single for ages, so not many chances to lounge with lovers in the morning. When I did it was special.

I miss that so much. That person, that feeling.

So much.

And I can’t tell them. Most of the people that I miss are bad for me.

The last two people who woke up with me regularly didn’t really appreciate it/me in the end. And that makes me feel sad sometimes too.

People who have it every day or some days don’t even know.

But I’d rather wake up alone and a little lonely than beside someone and lonely.

This much I know.

I did wake up at 6 today. I didn’t go—because it’s far and I have to work and blah blah excuses—but I did remember that this is an important time of day for me.

I like being up.

I walked yesterday, in the morning, to an awesome cafe where there was flamenco and music. It was glorious in it’s own way. I tried to appreciate the hell out of it. Walking through the green and looking at the massive old stone houses…that was so cool. All of it was cool.

But I didn’t feel glory.


The weight.

I thought of all the things I could do this morning…which are actually limited, given that some places aren’t open. But there is the gym and the pool, yoga, and writing. Even reading. I decided that I’m going to just get up and make my mornings what I need to make them.

Push it a little more, lonely soul and all. I’m tired of this being my story. In fact I think I’ve been writing here that I’m tired of it.

But I think I’m angry enough now to use that for good.

The challenge is to get up on my next few days off (unless an actual party should present itself) and do this. This. This. This.

I constantly feel like I’m missing out on life, living it alone. It’s hard to shake that feeling.

I need to do everything in my power to shake this feeling.

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