The Day

Every day is the day. Every day, I am capable of it, yet. The energy is there, the motivation is there, yet. The wall is me. Not the distractions, not the people, not the lack of time. It is me. Nothing more, nothing less. Lack of time might even help. The less time, the lower the bar. Having time is having expectations of grandeur. Grandeur never to be fulfilled. The problem has never been the difficulty, maybe even the lack thereof. The difficulty doesn't come from it, but rather the monotony of it. I wouldn't say the monotony is the problem though. That's only where the difficulty comes from, and difficulty is to be overcome. The battle is with something else. But this is no glorious battle. This isn't solving a problem and finally getting it right. This is a battle of will, discipline, not the sort of thing that is tangible. This is fuzzy, gray, hard to define, and long to be fought. This is not a battle of spectacle, for others, or more importantly, yourself. The day will come, but the day will only ever be today. Not now, but the today of then. But even then, the battle will not be finished.