I'm working when the house is quiet and the world is asleep. I have nothing better to do than to tense the muscles in my forearms and squeeze out the words through the ends of my fingers.
This is a gift.
It's a much different feeling when you take a break in the early evening and start binge watching some show. You know you're doing it and probably shouldn't. You rationalize that the story telling is decent, artistic even, and that you're close to a stopping point. You may as well just finish - like when you clean your plate of those extra 100 calories you don't need - but will happily store for later. Fat.
Doing your tasks early, with focus is exciting. It does feel like opportunity. You're clear headed and motivated and excited to be healthy enough to take action. It feels great. Let's do this.
But as you tire and exhaust your energy at a cellular level, your chemistry changes. You may be stable for a while, but just notice how things start to slip from your control.
As I continue, my edge vaporizes. The ability I had to be clear and precise has been traded in the name of persistence. The quality vanishes. What I have left is called grit. I have ripped the wrapping from the gift and am left with only a blank stare and a lifetime of obligation.