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Illustration by Büke Schwarz |
On
Procrastination
I procrastinate. A lot.
I sit and wait for the perfect moment to come. But it never does. It
is never just right. It's a tease, a nasty promise disguised as
cheers of encouragement.
He, the moment, keeps
telling me to complete that one last assignment, to remove what's
separating us from the beginning of my goal. But he never tells me to
write. Does that mean I shouldn't? That I am not suited? Either way,
I – very much like the moment - feel like a fraud. Because I always
want, but never do.
Of course, it is easy
to blame the untouchable rather than my lack of grit. But blaming the
moment is the only way to beat him. Today, I know that he is wrong,
that he is a tease, a nagging shithead. But what about tomorrow?
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