I'm not sure if I'm oversleeping in the mornings.
Do I sleep more?
I usually want to appreciate the waves of sunlight that glow through windows, softening a glare on my pupils, lightening the shades of color.
But tell me: where is that warmth I receive after enduring the first few disgusting moments of waking up? Those euphoric moments that scream to me: "Life!" They seem to have been sapped.
Rather now, I awake in grogginess, and to be conscious seems to be walking through an endless post-sleep haze. Trudging through butter, passing through greyscale.
To live is so effortless, to be alive however, requires standards. Right there! There is that difficulty of life, and similarly an impossibility in attempting to define the stratifications of what good living is.
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