Mornings always began the same way: darkness, fading dreams, and some vague notion of semi-conciousness.
Darkness because her eyelids were glued shut by eye gunk – as if involuntary bodily functions conspired against her, begging her to sleep a bit longer.
Fading dreams: not like some beret-wearing existentialist melodramatically decrying life! Ennui! Why! No, more like the ever-frustrating “I dreamt something cool last night, but now can’t remember it. Fuck!”
That half-hearted moan. Persistent disillusionments made fear of loss her greatest (de)motivator. She tiptoed the tightrope of the past, dreading the notion of failure even more. After all, isn’t yesterday the best predictor of today?
Some inexplicable quantum fluctuations rearranged electrical signals in her brain. Hesitation vanished into liberating thrill as she found herself uttering a probability-defying response.
Yesterday may be the best predictor of today, sure. But that doesn’t mean it’s agoodpredictor. “No one’s lived today yet, so it’ll be a delightful mess of unknowns.”
Possibilities existed and someone had to conquer them. “Might as well be me,” she thought.