The Journey

I arise from sleep, switch on the bedside lamp and I am not troubled by memories of a dark and best-forgotten past. I tumble out of bed and drag myself, like a honey-smeared one-legged cat across Velcro, to the kitchen. There are no demons in the walls, fridge or toaster waiting to devour me. The porridge I consume is not laced with the poison of a wronged 'business associate,' nor does the triple shot of caffeine I imbibe transport me to a distant realm where goblins roam, dragons soar and magic infuses every rock, blade of grass and drop of ocean. I do not pick up my shotgun, Sabre of Righteousness and satchel full of medi-packs as I leave the house. I do not fight through legions of the undead; nor am I pursued by packs of slavering wargs, as I make my way through the streets of the Unholy City to the Dark Altar of Commerce where I sacrifice a small part of my withering soul every day of my mortal existence.

Coz life ain't no fucking videogame, y'know!