Shadows with no morning sun. Dark, dark room, darker every day. Snooze button. Snooze button again. Again.
Cold, cold water. Feed the drooping eyelid. Nothing can prepare mentally for something as formless and horrible as the rest of the day.
Everyone looks the same until you open your eyes. Landscapes of grey, fleshtone shifting mirages of little blizzards growing up to be snowflakes. Everyone's snowblind.
Always pulled against the tide. Nothing's pushing nothing forward. Never, ever, feel safe. Everyone trusts the wrong people. There is no love.
But look under the covers, and you'll find stars pooling into galaxies. You all look like ants...