Before the Sky Grows Ordinary

Awake at 5 am dutifully chastising myself for the misspent life, the poor choices, the addiction to self-delusion, by 6:30 I've done enough "morning pages" to feel some compassion for my walking companion. What is it like for her to walk every morning next to this quivering ectoplasm of regret? She is always so cheerful. She has led a well-intentioned life of steady work (don't disabuse me) and is rewarded now with freedom, a pension and really good health coverage. She's a good example. I am a horrible warning.
Together, at dawn, we face the same sky and receive the same gift.