11/21/23 3:30 PM Eyes glued to phone, computer, and television screens, I fear I've passed the sign that warns, 'point of no return.' Somewhere between sips of soft serve milkshakes, and the clicking of the remote to select new shows, the electric whirl of my synapses is slowing towards stop. Visceral necrosis spreads rampantly throughout my being, viciously decaying every semblance of potential left in my sleep-deprived, gluttonous, rotting existence. Constantly counting history's accomplishments while whittling worthwhile moments away, I'm stealing second chances from todays passing seconds. With the same time spent reliving my triumphs, I bury myself beneath years of living in my sin. The time comes when willfully slashing my own flesh will find me want for blood. I've lost all sense, I'm dead and beaten, calling myself a horse. Stalling always finds me static, or worse, slipping ever behind. So with a steady pace, I must propel forth into a frightful future, Building not only a healthy lifestyle, but my withered self-esteem. To earn esteem, one must first act in worthiness; I can't achieve positive growth in stagnant slumber. One day at a time, so here's a humble suggestion: stop writing, turn the page, and pen the words, “To Do.” Instead of laying back down again, maybe Carpe Diem.
