“8:49AM I’m up and moving, awesome. This is gonna be a productive day
9:10AM I’m done with breakfast, let’s take a shower, and see what I need to work on today
9:25AM As I climb the stairs, my brain entices me with the thought of a pre work satisfaction
9:26AM The attraction of my laptop is enough for the liquefaction of all attempts at redaction
9:30AM What am I doing? Ok, I’m already in the middle of a video, I’ll start working after this one.
10:40AM Well crap. At this point, I’d better wait until 11
And 11 passes by, but the hours abruptly rush consecutively, the one following always quicker than the one before. Your brain, fidgety, intensely tries to think of ways to trick the passing of time, chooses to rhyme “leisure” with “pleasure” instead of “work” with “measure” and “grind”. Because changes have to occur to avoid the fermentation of your obscure but manageable workload. You could be moving nations, you think to yourself, but the expectations that such actions hide are daunting, thus you chide any attempts at doing what you should. You fuss, almost in pride, at your way of getting things done at the last minute. Yet all that time you decided to use putting off is gone. Fused with the past, passing an awful bitter sweet yawn to your mind.
So the days have to pass, the next more painful than the previous for you to realize how to break out of it. Then, your vision grows, a fusion of past experience, and purpose, manifesting itself like crows in the nighttime, too hard to be spotted, but present enough to be heard. A bird so big and majestic that you should fall to the temptation of seeking it.
There are so many things to be done on this planet. But being curled up in a safety blanket, being too scared of the world taking a swing at you is not worth it. You know all this, yet stay frozen, having chosen a path really comfortable for your subconcious. Yet, still, you feel a ferocious craving in your stomach, in front of computer, as you finish the autobiography of a serial procrastinator.”