In Progress

Detective Fridge Jackson stared at the puddle of rain next to his sedan. The blue and red glow of the diner’s neon sign reflected onto the water’s surface. A part of him wished he were still in bed. As if lying still for another hour would get him to fall asleep. A part of him was excited to see the scene that awaited him. It was a part of him that he hated. A large boot scattered the water’s image and disrupted Fridge’s stream of consciousness. Fridge glanced at the boot’s owner. It belonged to a young, uniformed officer. He fidgeted with his flashlight and avoided eye contact. “They’re waiting for you inside, sir,” he said quickly.             “Poor guy must’ve picked the short straw,” Fridge thought.             Fridge patted the nervous officer on the shoulder and approached the main door. Quigley’s Diner stood in the corner of a small shopping plaza. It was a quaint, mom-an...

I rise at three fifty A.M., mouth taped to stop the red pill from leaving my head. Name brand, dark blue, aesthetically shaped to show the world the extent of my bread.  I plunge my face into the bowl of ice. I add lemon juice to increase the pain. To cleanse my soul and to control my vice. To strengthen my mettle —against the grain.   Can they see all my insecurities? I feel the heat of their stares through the screen. Cut off, I'll fade into obscurity. My life protected by a glossy sheen.   The millions are with me on their phones. —all eyes on me, yet I still feel alone. 

I can feel the indentations in the rock from where my hands have been before pushing into the surface.   The sun punishes me; sweat trickles down the bridge of my nose, dripping down into my shadow.   I used to crane my neck past the boulder to see how close I was to the peak. Now I keep my head down and stare into the abyss.   Time has lost its meaning. There is no yesterday, today, or tomorrow —just being.   I used to count each trek —have I surpassed a thousand, or am I still in double digits? Infinity treats all constants the same.   To give everything and get nothing back. To sow and not reap. Potential that never becomes kinetic. I reach the top, but I don’t feel anything. The boulder rolls back, and I watch gravity erase what I wrote.   Making my way back down, I spot a pebble sparkling in the sunlight. Was that always there?   My arm grazes the boulder’s flank, opening a small scra...

I can feel the indentations in the rock from where my hands have been before pushing into the surface.   The sun punishes me; sweat trickles down the bridge of my nose, dripping down into my shadow.   I used to crane my neck past the boulder to see how close I was to the peak. Now I keep my head down and stare into the abyss.   Time has lost its meaning. There is no yesterday, today, or tomorrow. Just the beginning and the end.   I used to count each trek -have I surpassed a thousand, or am I still in double digits? Infinity treats all constants the same.   To give everything and get nothing back. To reap and not sow. Over and over.   Lost in the desert, sand as far as the eye can see. Knowing there is no oasis. I reach the top, but there is no closure or resolution. The boulder rolls back, and I watch gravity erase what I wrote.   My hands find their place. Again, I start what I will neve...

I was walking back to my car with a bag of jalapeno kettle chips in one hand and a blue Gatorade in the other when I saw the bumper sticker. A black-and-white, cartoonish, skull with menacing eyes stared into mine. The American flag was imprinted on the skull. The skull was covered in vertical stripes with stars surrounding the left eye. The parking spot to the right of my sedan was now occupied by a large, black pickup truck. It was a 2006 Ford F-150 with silver detailing around the fender and the pickup bed. The skull was positioned directly in the center of the tailgate. Clearly, the owner wanted people to see it. As I neared the truck, I noticed that the tires and the undercarriage were caked in mud. There was a crack in the front right headlight, shoddily repaired with black duct tape. Several scratches marred the cab of the truck. Unprompted, I opened the passenger door. I was immediately hit by the smell of cigarettes. The truck was lined with worn-out black leather. Receipts, s...

Motivation is a popular buzzword in self-help circles. It's considered to be the starting point of personal progress. Once we find the motivation to better our lives, we will. As someone struggling with motivation, I've found disregarding it more beneficial than searching for it. The issue with glorifying motivation is that we view it as the beginning of our progress. We need to be motivated to begin improvement. In my life, this emphasis on finding motivation has led to paralysis. I need to get my mind in the right headspace. I need to organize my goals and values. I need to put everything in my life into perspective. Then I can start.  We put so much pressure on the first step of a long journey which dissuades us from even taking it. The best way to start is to start. Stop overthinking. Stop trying to find the perfect mindset. Just start and the benefits will come later. When you work out, there are no expectations for the first session. You are not going to get a six-pack in...