I just wish sometimes that it was the bad moments that filled the cracks between the good moments, rather than the other way round.
That the weight of the voice that says, fuck, I'd don't know if I can do this today, this week, this month, this year wasn't quite so heavy.
That there was a little more progress, instead of a week's good work and then two weeks' worth of paralysis. And that I didn't know that 20 or 30 years from now, I'm going to be screaming at myself now, asking her desperately why she's wasting time, and not getting on with...everything. Because That Moment will come. Maybe that's what's stopping me from moving, becoming better, being a better person, a better worker, just generally better, rather than all promises and no delivery.
Fuck, I don't know. I'm so tired. I need a holiday. And I DON'T want to spend it brooding on my failures. Is there ever going to be ENOUGH?
Holiday first, brooding later. That's the deal.
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