and in the middle of the night, you find yourself confronting yourself with surprising frankness and readily accepting the truth- that you are weak, lazy, and afraid, of yourself, and the imaginary expectations of others- and so your battles have been hard-fought but half-fought; you lose steam and give in to distractions and descend into absolute wastefulness. tomorrow will be better, you say. tomorrow is a new day and i will try harder to change. but tomorrow, when the glare of the sun exposes and scrutinizes your every move and the heat scorches your flesh and challenges you to put up a fight with your willpower- to show what you've got- you'll find the effortless promises you made to yourself the night before a burden to bear. you'll find it easier, so much easier even if it is wrong, to turn your face away and run towards the warm comforting embrace of self-pity and self-destruction.