The early morning is a terrifying time of the day, as the fate of the next twelve hours or so tends to depend entirely on what happens in those hours between peeling your crusty eyes open and throwing your carcass out the door. If you're like me, you'll spend the hour before you leave the house imagining all of the horrendous things that could possibly go wrong during the course of the day. Often, the first thought I have is something along the lines of "oh god, I have to actually stand up now", it's a depressing realisation that the adult world is calling for me once more. But this continues until I reach the showering and getting dressed stage of the day; at no other time other than in the early mornings does it appear to be a chore to clean and dress myself, such is the effect of the prospect of leaving upon my mind. The pre-morning represents life itself: it's a brief glimmer of freedom which has to be spent preparing yourself for the hours of entrapment that follow, stealing you away from your desire to sit in your boxer shorts, playing Football Manager for fifteen hours. What's worse is that the early morning turn us into the stereotypes you see in movies. We're forever chugging at coffee and standing waiting for public transport, staring blankly at our phones in a last ditch attempt at escapism before it's time to clock in. Pre-mornings take away the last chance of happiness we have in the day before we've even had a chance to realise it was there in the first place.
