IT'S A BEAUTIFUL MORNING, AND IT'S NOT
It is a beautiful day. Look at all the things you get to do: wake up in a free country, stretch your legs over the side of your extremely comfortable bed, and probably amble to some high-grade caffeine within a few paces' reach. The programming that streams through your enormous, wafer-thin television is beamed to you from space; your children are protected by strong locks and many, many policeman who, on most days, probably won't shoot you or them for no reason. (Probably; results vary by location.) The sun is shining, and your body screams its desire to move, live, work, love, and----
"I certainly observed how Will handled a difficult year. I never saw a guy lose control. I never saw a guy that was walking around with a deer-in-the-headlights look. I saw a guy who just kept grinding and was a leader.
--go back to fucking bed, piss the bed, drink Midori straight from the bottle in bed while watching Chopped for the eighth fucking time in a row, piss bed again because life is a sty and only pigs are happy, throw bottle against wall, tell the sun to fuck off because it's just the farts of the universe on fire, and if that's the best trick God's got it ain't shit because you watched a drunk insane lady from Ottawa do it once at a party, and if a Canadian's doing it it can't be that hard. Fuck. FUCK.