I sometimes think that if the sun would explode, I wouldn’t notice. I’d just wake up like I always do with a grunt and a heavy hand hitting snooze. Another alarm would go off and another grumble would accompany it. We’d battle for the airwaves – an electronic cacophony and a Cro-Magnon vestigial etymology – and neither would budge. At least, not until the third clock would blare.
Then I’d crawl out of the bed with one more gurgle that would lasts to the bathroom. I’d piss. I’d shit. I’d shower and maybe even piss a bit more and wonder if people did the same as me because why not, right, there’s water running and everything and isn’t water supposed to stimulate urination and isn’t urination some bit water too so does urination cause urination. It’s early, so I wouldn’t know. I sometimes can’t even notice even if I’m still leaking or it’s just the shower faucet. Common morning uncertainties. On par with what the day will bring and what you’ll wear and are you still pee-peeing or just standing on the shower because it’s warm and it’ll be cold out there and here, you’re safe with unknowns.
But the water would get cold because it always does and my bladder would become an empty grocery, dirty grocery bag left on the side of the street because where else do they go and I leave the shower. I’m on fire. I have the smoke to prove it. The day can begin today because I have been reborn as a phoenix. Watch me fly, and I would. Clothes would fit effortlessly. Hair would comb itself into order. Lips would be kissable all day. I would be ready for anything, my pockets filled with pens and papers and wallets and elastic bands and a pocket knife and ear plugs and a public tranist fare and a small journal and my fingers playing with every item individually. I’d be a professional. If someone would see me they’d say woah which meeting is he going to and they’d think I’m too busy to answer them and they’d be right. My strides would be long and fulfilling and each step would be calculated, exact. I’d be given a seat on the subway. Whispers would be passed that a CEO was here, right here, on the subway and seeing what can be fix the problems like station 12 and 14, which really need to be fixed as you know and now he knows too. Fingers would point in my direction. So would admiration. Hate would come too because it always is tied to appreciation; envy because it’s not them, jealousy because it’s not them all the same. But those individuals would know that they couldn’t be me because I’m me and I’d be a professional.
Then I’d arrive at my station to a hundred of nods, some year-long smiles, a clear path in front of me, two parallel lines of people crammed on either side, and I’d exit the station, look behind me, share some more year-long smiles with others, turn around, look up, and notice that the sun was gone.
The world was over. Mine was too. Which was more important, I wouldn’t be sure. It was still morning after all.
Besides, I’d probably wonder if I would be peeing my pants or if I’d have wasted it all in the shower.