Other Days

Tired man waking up in the morning

Some days are a little rougher than other days. Getting out of bed, or waking from a binge watching coma on those other days can be a struggle. It felt mucky there in the swamp of self-pity, a hangover of the soul. His mind was already consumed with each step of each task for the day and beyond, and in-between. Things that needed to be done and those which should have already been.

He re-planned it all again, it felt like a giant tome of great enlightenment lay over his body, weighing him down; challenging him and chastising him simultaneously. There was no doubt in his mind that procrastination was the clasp, insecurity the padlock on that book. Opening it was enticing, but avoiding failure was much simpler process.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in threw his nose, hefty out from a mouth full of aweful breath. Counting in his head, he promised himself he would pick a number to get up on. 34, 35, 36, 37, get up. 38, 39, get up. Another big breath and he flung the pilled, faded blanket aside and shut up off the mattress on the floor.

Steps for today’s activities played over in his head with minor revisions and complete re-writes.

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