Another day

Another day, it’s always another day.

Another minute, another second. It’s always another instance of sheer elation into the unknown.

What control? There is none, it’s imagined.

You ask yourself the same rhetorical bullshit “when will x happen” “why did x happen” “How did x happen”

But have you ever stopped to ask yourself “is it my fault?”

You may not have control, but it’s still your fault. It’s still on your back to improve or at-least aim higher than the day before.

There’s no motivation here, no external factors of trumped-up, esoteric gabble & gob.

There’s tangibility of choice, of will, of action.

Nature is savage at it’s core, that’s why there’s no control.

You want this and that, without being able to muster the work required.

And then.. you complain, bitch and moan to the nearest person that’ll feed into your pity party.

Yet, you fail to forget, that it’s always been this way.

You want control, yet you lack the effort to become what is required to obtain it.

“but x said if I do this, and this… oh and a bit of that, I’ll get it”

Are you X? No, you’re fucking you.

Why do you think that what worked for X will work for you? Your circumstances are completely fucking different!

But please, keep up the circus act for us all to enjoy. It’s easy to pick apart the weak willed facades from those who understand how to play the head-game.

That’s the beauty of this.

The work is all that matters, period.

Those who won’t work, shout the loudest, at those who worked for it.

It’s always another day, why not pick to make everyday the day that you fall in-love with the tasks at hand?

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