Tomorrow is a very powerful word.
It sounds responsible.
Hopeful.
Organized.
“I’ll do it tomorrow,” I said confidently, like someone who has their life together in a labeled folder.
Tomorrow felt far away.
Safe.
Forgiving.
Today, however, felt demanding.
So I postponed everything politely.
Emails.
Decisions.
That one task that’s been staring at me since last week.
I made a mental note.
A strong one.
The kind you trust without writing down.
Tomorrow arrived quietly.
No announcement.
No warning.
I woke up with the same motivation I had yesterday — none.
But now it was dressed differently.
“I’ll do it later today,” I adjusted.
Later became afternoon.
Afternoon became evening.
Evening became exhaustion from doing absolutely nothing productive.
At night, guilt showed up wearing pajamas.
“Didn’t you say tomorrow?”
Yes.
I did.
But I never specified which tomorrow.
I closed my eyes, satisfied with my logic.
Tomorrow can wait.
Again.