Every day is 0:00:00.
It always starts clean. New. Untouched.
It starts over.
So often, I worry that I’ve wasted each of those ticking seconds.
When I could have done so much more by the time I see 23:59:59.
And it’s an insulting lie – to everything I did do that day. To everyone with whom I spoke. To every laugh that recklessly left my lips, every crinkle my eyes formed in understanding, comprehension or even confusion. To every item I held in my hands with intentional care. To every hug.
I wish knowing a lie was a lie was enough to never hear it again.
I am a self-saboteur. A deprecator. A bencher of my own story.
I am supposed to be FREE from fruitlessness.