Saturday 12th June.
I hate mornings. They're always the worst part of the day.
It is the beginning, the start, and we've all heard 'the first time's always the worst', whether it's said by someone trying to convince you it's a good idea to hurl yourself out of a plane when you're thousands of feet up, with only a flimsy piece of material slowing you down; or mentioned during that talk you had about losing your virginity.
I like to say this little phrase to myself everytime I wake up.
The first time is always the worst.
Of course, in my case, it's the first few minutes of the day, but the meaning is still there.
Plus, 9 times out of 10 you'll wake up regretting the night before; the amount you drunk, who you kissed, what crazy drunken stunts you pulled (sometimes the muscle you pulled in the process). Either this, or you feel unbelievably guilty for something you did previously, something which had probably kept you awake, as your thoughts ran wild, the night before. I honestly can't remember the last time I woke up and felt completely free of regret or guilt.
That particular morning was even worse than the usual hell. I wasn't in my own bed, wrapped up warm with my heavy curtains drawn, blocking out the outside world, most importantly the sun. No, that morning I was thousands of feet above some ridiculously hard to pronounce European city, in an uncomfortable seat, made out of possibly the itchiest material known to man, and on top of that the bastard next to me had decided to slide up the blind.
Then there was the drawl of the annoying, albeit very pretty, air hostess, asking whether 'Madam' would like tea or coffee.
I got the former feeling; regret, although for once it didn't involve alcohol. Why did I offer to be the one sat in the seperate seat, away from the other two? I peered down the aisle, managing to just see her head rested on his shoulder, the familiar blonde locks spread out behind her neck. If I hadn't so bloody selfless I could of been sat there, next to an angel, instead of a fat businessman, whose extra large belly had knocked my dinner off the tray within hours off our takeoff; I looked down at my white shirt, a red patch covering most of it.
There's another thing about mornings, judging by how they go, you can pretty much work out how the rest of the day will be.
Judging by that morning, the day ahead wasn't going to be very good.
it's short. i know. sorry about that.
it's going to be a multi-chapter thingy ma bobby extravaganza.
oooh, writing fanfiction for a british show. i can put some cultural references in and i can use the word rubbish once more. can't wait.