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.