Morning...

I hate mornings. Morning is the start of a day, a brand new day infact, but I hate it. I hate the time really really bad. Everyday when I wake up from my nightsleep and see the morning is already on me, I sulk. Morning means, I have to go to university, morning means I have to immerse myself in the fake outer world and well, morning means I am older than yesterday. I don't like to go to university and certainly don't want to do the "work", which, according to me is no artistic or creative. Seems to me like a technical jail, where I just can't breathe freely, can't live in carefree manner. Morning means a bright and hot sun, not all the days but majority of the days. I hate to deal with sun and my skin is enough sunkissed without any extra caressing by sun. Morning means, it is time to be practical, down to earth, facing the reality. But, if thought carefully, isn't it the fact that "nothing" is actually real but what is claimed to be the reality is nothing but the illussion shared by the "majority"? But nobody listens to me. They think I am crazy. Let them think that. I couldn't care less.