It's really hard to start.
It's really hard to start sometimes. It's just as hard to finish.
I have a plethora of personal projects I want to accomplish, things I want to get done. Poems to write, books to read, freelance jobs to pick up. I have time, I have the resources-
yet why do I sit and spin my wheels instead? Why is it so hard to try? Why am I dying to finish this post already?
Is it the laziness? The lack of drive, or discipline? Am I afraid to fail?
If it's the latter-aren't I already there? Every second I don't get closer to my goals is another second where I regret wasting my time on things that do not matter. Where I feel like...
Maybe these moments are necessary. To remind myself that despite all the roadblocks, yes, there is in fact someone holding me accountable for my actions-
I can't allow myself to fall freely without picking myself up again. I don't think I'm capable of it.
I do, however, think I'm capable of this. Of writing.
I just need the practice. The actual act of writing.
That's what I need.