why must my inspiration always come at 2 in the morning?
i have never ever enjoyed the span of hours between 7a.m. and 12 p.m.
i can remember in gradeschool how my mother would have to literally drag me out of bed in the morning.
she'd come into my room and pull up the shades and tear the covers off of me and start singing a funny song and march around the room.
then my dad would come in and try to grab me and i'd hide under the covers and whine and beg for them to leave me alone.
i still hate mornings. hate hate hate them. i'm not a coffee person so that won't help.
i don't actually form coherent sentences until around noon.
my freshman year of college i won the floor award for 'scariest in the morning'.
i guess i don't hide it very well.