I so often douse any plans I make with buckets full of apprehension or laissez-faire. Often finding myself simply too tired to invest any energy into any kind of faraway goals. It’s funny, years ago I would have looked into the mirror and hated the person I saw for never finishing anything. Now I just see an old man, covered in contentment and melancholy. I suppose I could just pump myself up again with affirmations and promises. But at the moment I just assume close my eyes and go to sleep.
At this point I find it hard to even complete these thoughts. Physically more than anything I just want to be left alone. The freedom from making plans relieves me of the disappointment of failing. Yet I’m smart enough to know that failure often leads to growth. But at this point in time it doesn’t really matter. Soon I will wake up from this momentary wave of discontent and see that things aren’t often as bad as they seem.