I have become a morning owl. Yes, a morning owl.

After years of long nights (and I don’t mean all nighters) doing things that I wanted to do, things that fullfilled my curiosity, things that would keep me up at night, I have grown to love mornings perhaps more than I ever loved those nights.

Mornings offer something that nights can only dream for, the promise of a great today. It is something that feels tangible despite it being ridiculosly philosophical and mystical. Mornings believe in chances and they are not counting the days - at least they don’t show it.

Nights can’t offer you a better today, they implictly announce the end of it. When the night falls, you know what’s coming, you know you will soon call it a day and sit to count your wins and your loses. The best nights can do is promise you a better tomorrow but they are quite bad at it.

My mornings start quite early and more often than not it is still dark outside, which would make anyone feel like a nocturnal animal. It’s not the silence or the sound of nature that makes me like one more than the other. It is the ability to take action now on what’s coming up next. This probably reveals the real truth behind my transition. I am just not good at sleeping on things.