An ode to laziness

The days tick by as I wait for the weekend. Each hour I grow lazier, and as the holidays approach my ability to accomplish anything is minimal to none causing me to fail.

But I can’t stop. Can’t stop sitting around all day watching Netflix. I make a list. I wake up early. I have a plan only to start up my laptop and go to Netflix and binge watch a TV show I’ve already watched.

I love writing; the way the words flow from my fingers to page as it fills up with characters, descriptions, sentences, and paragraphs. I love the way the cold keys feel against my fingers as I gently punch my way through them words flowing out with each tap. But why don’t I write? What am I afraid of?

My greatest fear is regret. Regretting not doing something with my life, with the time I have during breaks. Yet each and every time it’s the same fruitless routine. It’s as though I’m set up for this, and I don’t why I can’t change. Why the constant downpour of my life has been a mess. It’s my fault, but nothing changes.

I’ve stayed up late nights just to be manipulated by the ground of social media. I’ve woken up early. I’ve tried and tried and nothing works.


But one night I decided to write, decided to write this. And let the words flow. The choppy, redundant, and grammatically incorrect sentences touch the page. And for once I left them there. I didn’t close the tap or delete my work. I didn’t skip back to the norms of social interaction for a teenager. I wrote and started reading articles on the news.

And reminding myself that this is what I want. That I want to work hard and pull late nights away from the TV. That I love writing and filling up pages, journals.

And that the one of the big difference that separates me from having the life of Monica Geller or Joey is that they’re life didn’t revolve around their television or computer or social media. Our lives are completely different, the results, the location, the attitude, but the road is simple. Hard work usually results in success. Working hard will accomplish my dreams.

So I started writing this, and the idea is compelling. I need this. To express my thoughts, ideas, and to take a deep breath and not delete everything I’ve ever written, to just once post something. So here it goes — the motivational speech that I’m writing at 11 will help me because what I need to do is finally on paper. The world is going able to read and wonder about this naive girl, who believes that writing down her simple plan will work. The world can mock and laugh and it will make it better. It will cause me to work harder. To raise my head inside of pushing it toward the screen. To use the MacBook my dad brought me for anything other than the world of social media and Netflix. To finally take a deep breath and realize that each second ticking by could be used to be free. To take a deep breath and feel the words flow from the caramel covered keyboard that sits in my lap.

I can do this, and for once I’m not going to rely on the rising sun to push me through the monotonous path.

*Thank you for those who read this. This was mainly a piece needed to motivate myself and work, but having people take the time to read this is wonderful.

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