I wasn’t really fond of hard work.
Hard work is like a not-so-close cousin you grew up with and eventually had to deal with at every family gathering. He’s part of your life and you can’t escape him when he’s around. You get along with him well but you’re not entirely excited nor do you ever really look for him. You would do anything for the guy if push comes to shove, but you keep your distance when you can. You usually have better things to do and you spend just enough time necessary to keep anyone from noticing.
To realize this at the age of 24 isn’t exactly the most promising moment of your life. But the bonus is to also realize how spoiled, arrogant, lazy, impatient, and selfish you really are in addition to finding out you’re not well-acquainted with hard work.
I’ve been dancing around this lie I’ve been telling myself and the song has finally reached its last note. There’s no ground to cover nor no rock to hide behind.
I haven’t run out of lies to tell myself, I’ve just lost the ability to believe them.
The moment I realized and accepted this truth was my struggle was also the start of how I came to learn from it and love it.
Time to get to work.
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