Mourning Routine.

My dreams were filtering through my veins, giving me that warm "home" feeling, you know? But I found myself somewhere else... not at my home at all. Okay, so maybe this wasn't my daily ritual, but it wasn't something I was surprised about.

By this time the sun was starting to irritate my eyelids into opening...and by this timeI knew where I was.
On top of the only free place I could be alone. I must have fallen asleep here, and I should make my way back down to where reality pushes forward.
This is me standing still; 5:40? I'd be rubbing the rust from my eyes and pulling warm sheets away from my body. I hate mornings, and I hate anything that turns into anything ressembling a routine.
So here I am, on a spontaneous mission to keep myself from falling into one of those sad buisness women who're dressed by dawn and out the door. Instead I'm spending this particular morning on the top of a beautiful hill, watching the sun rise.
By the time I walk back to my car I'll probably have to drive to work. But what does that matter when I did something different; added a twist to the storyline that was on the verge of becoming the average boring lifestyle of an office worker. I'm waiting for the other night to come rushing back still. And I'm waiting for the wave of everything I have to get done hit me harder now that I've taken advantage of what I can actually get out of life. This is my mourning I suppose...
knowing I have to go back,
but if I could make every morning different like this then I could definitely live,
Can you see it?
A life of endless possibilities all built on the chance to be completely spontaneous?