Early mornings are hard for me.
When I’m awake before the rest of the city.
I depend so wholly on the energy of others.
At this time in the morning I feel hollow.
Like a tin can with a single penny in it.
Empty like the hunger hollowness I felt as a child that led me to this education.
Empty like 4 in the morning.
Those are the hollow times.
When the whole world is still asleep snug in their beds and I’m not just awake.
I'm awake and ready for the day.
These quiet still moments scare me the most.
Late nights I can still feel the energy of those just went to bed.
Living off the traces, the fumes.
Mornings are hard.
The sky is washed anew each night removing those traces of energy
And the only one I can turn to is me.
Words like empathy and exuberance and exaltation
They’ve got a new echo in this early morning air.
I wish I enjoyed this.
This being alone.
This sucking up the empty space around me.
But let’s be honest
It’s far too quiet.