Desire/Fear

As his ass begins to flatten, his biceps deflating from mountains to hills, he knows he only has himself to blame. The desire to keep his body lean and taut is greater than his fear of it becoming flabby. Yet still, he finds it easier to distract himself with other things like...sitting. That, instead of making his legs move in a forward motion toward a goal that, once a necessity, has now become a discardable challenge. Sitting. Avoiding. Why? Is there fear? He knows the place and its virtually unfriendly members. He knows a person will rarely say hello. But he craves the chummy atmosphere that he once took for granted. He’s convinced himself he’s too old to be desirable in this playground of youth and pretty bodies. He now feels self-conscious where he used to feel like he belonged. So he sits. And avoids. And his abs become slack. He becomes mentally self-destructive—harder on himself than any other person could possibly be. He’s taken the step forward before. He knows he can. He knows the feeling of satisfaction. He sits. His legs twitch, aching to move. Only he can change his situation. Only he can fuel his desire and defeat his fear.

Motivationally Inept

He awoke feeling rested. The day had its plans well before sleep had taken him into its embrace the night before. As he sat on the sofa reading the first of the day's many tweets and updates, the coffee filled his mouth with its bitter warmth that somehow always managed to taste pleasant. He read and sipped nestled into the sofa's corner: scrolling, flipping, content. Nearly four hours later, the morning had slipped away and those plans the day haf made...fallen by the wayside, discarded like last month's Vogue. As regret and failure began to set in he realized once again that he had become depressively inept at motivation.