Cycles

I turn off the faucet and witness the last drops of motivation fall down the drain. Surrounded by the crushing weight of my own responsibilities, but this is life. I walk through a cluttered room, where the floor is nothing, but a distant memory. I wonder when I stopped caring, picking up a third t-shirt and checking it for stains, it looks and smells clean so I throw it over my head and decide that I can go another day without doing the laundry.

I muster every last drop of motivation as I drag my way to the kitchen, I smile at the scent of freshly brewed coffee. I sit down at my coffee table and try to move out all the unfinished texts, and magazines, and the plant that has now died. I sigh, but none the less place my computer and the coffee that brought my joy in front of me. I decide that today will be the day. Today I will finish the paper I started. A few hours go by and I’m still staring at an empty document, taunting me for the lack of words I have produced.

I spend the night scrubbing floors, and doing my laundry. I decide that a clean slate might be what I need, and it was. At least the beginning of it. Trapped in a vicious cycle of my own neglect, and trying to outrun my responsibilities made me grow tired. The cycle didn’t only need to be broken, but replaced.

I turn off the faucet and watch the last drop of my own neglect go down the drain, as I make my way to the kitchen and inhale the scent of freshly brewed coffee. I sit down at my coffee table with my computer and coffee cup in front of me, and I write.

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