Instaddict.

Slumped on the couch like a wrinkled potato, thumb reaches for the light beside. Boredom is a curious thing; one thing they don’t tell you about working in the evenings is how monotonous the mornings become. Still slumbering at sunrise means I miss the birds singing and the engines burping their dreary sludge into the atmosphere. Trying to become best friends with my alarm clock is an arduous affair. When 10am rolls around I haul myself out of my pit, eyes squeezed like two jam doughnuts and legs like jelly, I am faced with a wall of nothing. To do lists seem are no good, the boredom still creeps in. Productivity stunted, brain turned soft like marshmallow, I reach for my phone and scroll scroll scroll.

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