You Gotta Finish The Fu*king Story
Lost In The Algorithms — Odyssey # 50
The alarm clock is a sadist, a relentless beep at 4:30 AM that pulls me from sleep into the cold reality of another day. I’m just another guy, not some goddamn Spartan, but here I am, living a routine that Spartan would envy — or pity.
My feet touch the cold floor and I stumble to the scale, that digital harbinger of truth — or bullshit, depending on the morning. The numbers blink back at me ( 156.0), a cold, hard assessment of my existence in pounds and ounces.
It’s a twisted love affair with gravity, one that I can’t seem to quit.
The bathroom ritual is next… a splash of cold water to shock my system into the harsh light of day. It’s a jolt, a brutal awakening that’s more effective than any cup of coffee. But oh, the coffee is coming, black as my ex’s heart, brewing in the kitchen while I face myself in the mirror.
The guy staring back is half-asleep, half-awake, and wholly unsure of what he’s doing.
The greens are next, a concoction full of kale, spinach, and other green things I can’t bother to name. It’s like drinking a garden, but supposedly it’s good for me. I chug it down, feeling virtuous, or at least pretending to.
