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I put it off again.
Replying to emails.
The book I’m halfway through.
The phone call that’s been on my mind for ages.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I think, and another today comes to an end.
The match was only a week away.
But today, a friend invited me out.
I chose the fun option over practice.
It’s not a bad thing.
But on the way home, something snagged, just a little.
Next week’s me is a continuation of today’s me.
Time doesn’t grow
A day is twenty-four hours.
However hard you wish, it won’t become twenty-five.
However busy you are, time won’t stop either.
Whatever you put off comes back to you somewhere.
Tomorrow’s you ends up taking on today’s share.
Time is finite.
I know that, in my head.
But it’s hard to really feel it.
Count backward, and it comes into view
I count backward from the day of the match.
What is today for?
Is today really a day I should be resting?
Work is the same.
Count backward from the deadline, and today’s priorities change.
The things you’ve been putting off suddenly take on an outline.
Before I hit the first ball, I’m already thinking about the last.
Where to sink the final 9.
For that, where to leave myself on the 8.
The 7, the 6 —
This ball leads to the last ball.
Look only at the ball in front of you, and the next one gets harder.
Look ahead, and choose the now.
The day the ordinary stops being ordinary
There is a night, only once a year, when they can meet.
One day out of 365.
Two who have waited all year for that night.
You can’t always meet whenever you want to.
Time you took for granted turns out not to be so certain.
Today only comes today.
The me of now only exists now.
There must be something that can’t be put off.
Looking up at tonight’s Milky Way, that is what I thought.
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