THE PERFECT MORNING ROUTINE

Morning Routine for People Who Terrify Alarm Clocks

I AM AWAKE.

Not because I want to be. But because my eyes snapped open at 5:30 AM like the lids were stapled to my forehead. I wake up like a man who just remembered he left the stove on in another country. But he does not give a fuck. There is no snooze button on the Ocean. The sun doesn’t give a fuck about your sleep schedule.

I am Home

Baby

I am fucking home, back in the villa. The air is thick, heavy, smelling like wet earth and expensive Mezcal. I am lying in a bed that feels like God personally ripped a cloud from the sky and placed it in my room. I am alive. I am euphoric. I feel like I just snorted the line from apollos stash. I drink the sunlight.

I feel like I was dead for a thousand years and someone just hit the defibrillator pads against my chest. Clear. BOOM.

I could jump off the balcony right now and fly. I could wrestle a shark. I could look the devil in the eye smirk and spit. I am flying on the coattails of heaven.

And I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.