There are some mornings that you lie in bed and wish they'd never come.

This morning should never have come.

There are some mornings that you wake up feeling like some hellish hydra dredged up from someone's worst nightmare. You want blood. You know it's wrong. You know this isn't the you you'd take to the prom. Heck, it's not even the you you'd take to the backyard. (If I had a backyard.)

So you drag yourself out of bed with claws that cry to rip some hapless throat out saying to yourself that it'll all be fine after your coffee.

Except that I don't drink coffee.

So trying to keep your eleven other less friendly heads tucked away somewhere, you go for breakfast and try not to bite off anyone else's. One of those heads will give it a snap, I mean shot, anyway.

Then you stand in line for the inane morning attendance and fold your arms, keep very still and focus all your smouldering insane slavering *rRRHAGHRR* on the patch of carpark you're standing on.

Then someone comes and dances the Macarena at your ear.

*HISSsss*

Finally you make it back to the classroom and lay your (human) head down, and just pray, pray that you turn back soon.

Maybe for a while nothing happens and you start to resign yourself to being a public enemy for the day (at least).

Or mercifully you...for a lack of better word - click.

Then you see the gears in your mind turning (or grinding if yours are as rusty as mine) together in that hydra configuration. You watch in fascination while, by as much grace as by will, the gears shift down, up, I can't really tell, but the grimy, corrupted gear disengages and slips off while another takes its place.

*zzichtck*

It's like your perception, not just your sight refocuses. Your life shears its blurred edges and you can begin to see what's important again.

*zzich*

You feel like you've just woken up...but it's been hours since that. Time wasted, time wasted.

Haven't you had days like that too?