The night’s pervading darkness is slowly beginning to be pierced by the sun’s ever lingering embrace. The perfection of the unknown, the void, a realm where the mind’s creative fancy is forever king, is gradually disappearing. As if all the color and beauty of the past night is being revealed for what it truly is; grey, bleak, lifeless.

 To imagine that everything seemed so full of meaning and importance only a few brief hours ago seems almost incomprehensible. Your eye loses the luxury of toying with the abyss, and the illusion shatters. However this inevitable and ostentatious destruction is a wholly rejuvenating force, allowing, as if for the first time, a multitude of seemingly true conjectures to break through to the surface of your unconscious.

You feel a melancholic nostalgia; a longing for a return to miscellaneous thoughtlessness. The more you reach for it, the further it slips your grasp, until there is no choice left but to face these unquenchable questions head on. This decision however you take with a fleeting sense of determination. You lie in bed; questions and answers running wildly through your head, the world reshaping itself before your very eyes. Your idea of tomorrow unravels as a map, with you, its unique cartographer. Yet as a fearless explorer you venture ever onward, scrupulously examining every grain of sand in the hourglass.

 You slowly begin your metamorphosis into a new and entirely different person. The more your mind fondles this idea the ever more feverishly does it embrace it.  The decision is made, the foundation has been set. However a doubt remains. What makes this moment worthy of the fabled term eureka. For you and I both know that this has not been your first encounter with the harshness of reality’s fickle brow.

God knows this isn’t your first attempt. You’ve already done this a hundred times. But for once, certainty has set in. Of this at least you convince yourself. Your mistakes are acknowledged, your confession made, the formula for salvation divined. It all hinges on the detail. Like a Sherlock Holmes novel, every action is of the greatest importance. The path must be followed to the letter.

With this in mind, you fumble on your phone. You set an alarm, no matter how ambitious, confident in your resolve. Your eyes quiver and begin to sink one into the other.

What seems as the briefest of moments passes. The sun has already inched its way up the sheets to pry your eyes open. The alarm is ringing. Yet, just as in tales of old, day has chased away the night, and with it, all previous fancies flee. Your finger slides, moving from the side of the bed, up the desk to your phone. It continues its journey until it rests on solidly on the snooze button.

You press down.

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