I wake to the hiss of static commute. It seethes more than any rude awakening. 6.47am. No alarm, no groggy scrolling, I'm busting anyway. I place the scales on the good tile; the one right next to the drain. I'm down a kilo in 3 days. I'm not surprised. I put it down to fight or flight. I shrug and pick up my phone to log it. I remember why I didn't pick it up before - a friend is trying to convince me what a piece of crap I am for my apathetic attitude. I pick out some words but nothing really penetrates my hard shell. I'm starving. I should eat on the balcony; it's a decent morning. But I feel gulity for stepping out of confinement. It's a luxury none of us deserve right now. I cook something nice up to distract my mind thinking where I should be. Yesterday I was on my homespun carousel and today I have been thrown off, now lost. I sit down to eat and figure my new life out. I take my time, there's no rush in this mad world.