You wake up. Go for your first piss of the day. It’s highlighter yellow with a strong scent of sugar puffs.
Half-arsed you shake your tackle.
There’s urine on the toilet seat that you were too tired to lift up. You’ll wipe the piss dribble off with a piece of arse napkin – that’s if you remember.
Holding on to the sink you look at your depleted reflection in the mirror.
You contemplate about going downstairs, you’ll go in a minute.
Not to grab yourself some breakfast but to go and loll on the sofa and contemplate some more.
“Best get ready to go to work” you say out loud.
Still with no intention of doing anything you just stare into the abyss of the mirror.
Focusing on your aging face. Aware that minute by minute you’re eroding away. With the same reccurring thought that you have every morning.
Is this it?