Waiting to move, I am sitting on a bus, tired, and my body is sore from the long day which ended a long week. It is not much different—this day between the last.
The momentum is no different; neither is my routine or me as I am, older, grown, and halfway towards a goal I set out to reach a long time ago.
I am no different in my approach and no less dedicated achieve this thing, which I call, “My trick.”
I am sitting in an aisle seat on an outbound bus, huddled in a close proximity to dozens of strangers that undergo the same routine as me. The woman to my left smells from bug spray. She is somewhat large and dressed in all black with sides of her head shaved and frizzy purple hair on top. She stares Continue reading →
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