Habits don't die with a bang but with a whimper. You forget to do something one day of get lazy because you're not feeling it. The next thing you know, your entire schedule is off the rockers and you haven't written something in over five days. The first few days you can explain away, because you were doing exciting interesting things and maybe you were so tired you couldn't focus on writing. Or other things you care about to make your life good. But what about the day after that. Or the day after that. You forget you ever even cared about order and discipline. And then it's all over. Just when, after a month of practice and determination you had set yourself up to three posts a day, almost three thousand words of not great but not crap writing, you go quiet.
It's a sad day, for you and for everyone else. Your readers are disappointed but not surprised because of course that's what was going to have happened.
Are dreams aborted so easily? Are plans unraveled with such simplicity? Does life just push over everything new and changing and force you into the same old flow like the powerful unyielding river it is? Nothing to stand in the way of mediocrity? Is everything just gritted down to smoothness into nothingness. How do you even act and change if nothing can ever change. Are all our fates disappointing and predictable and uninteresting.
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