Bit of the old self-indulgence

There are the varying impulses; do you write an experience down immediately, or do you wait until your head is clear? Not because of any healthy purpose or specific merit, but because of simple self-indulgence, I end up choosing to write it down immediately.
Realizing that I won't feel completely shiny when I awake, and realizing that my recent rate of alcohol and/or fast food consumption was less than nutritious, I put less artistically relevant facts aside and focus on the morning. I left my window open before I left about 18 hours ago, and to my disappointment, my breath inside my own room does not emerge as a cluster of mesmerizing crystals, but merely as a wave of steam as I watch an indifferent blackbird in the distance - and as I observe that in the very moment of its mention it takes off and starts circling the area.
It's no big country I live in, and the closer you get to the inner city, the smaller it gets. Everyone is alienated and familiar at the same time in the weekend, drinking themselves senseless and communicating with complete strangers as if making a temporary pact that underlines a drunken and superficial allegiance. The feathers that hit the ground belong to birds and people alike, a continouous hedonistic waste where the beginning or end of any kind of sense was long pushed over a cliff into a pit of spikey granite.
Yes, I write this because of the multitude of beautiful images the morning brings when, in a mournful moment, I realize that I am not greeting it as much as bidding it farewell as others are to claim it while I enter my brief hibernation.

The faces become a blur more than ever, and the pseudo-sentimental slideshow passes before my weary eyes, pretense not lessened by a state of mild intoxication.
Wishful thinking, now a few days old, did not pay off, and yet the beauty would not be the same if the air wasn't such a fine wall of ruthless frost. I tell myself that this is what I miss every morning for all my self-indulgent oversleeping when I lazily arise to enjoy merely half a day. But I have had my dose, shutting out the experience as condensed in these words to read them as if they were created by a stranger.

I won't ever be the same person when I awake as I am just before I go to sleep, and I feel thankful for it.