I'm writing this late on a Saturday night that has already turned into a Sunday morning. I should really be winding down to go to sleep. But instead, my instinct told me to come here and write. I'm going to try to keep this short.
I made a $100 mistake earlier. Sure, it wasn't a backbreaking move, but as far as the cost of individual actions go for a single day on the calendar, it would be a rare event for me to do much worse. I've already worked to ameliorate the situation. Things are going to be okay.
I just can't help but ponder the mistakes made over time that cost more than what can be assigned to a single item, a one-time incident, a life event that can be appraised for its value by a third party. For example, how much did it cost a future version of me that I didn't go to the gym today, or even go for a walk? Whatever my reasons were, the day's sedentariness did an unquantifiably small amount of damage to my body that I will have to bear the cost for eventually. A line item on a ledger held by some greater power than myself, earthly or otherwise.
It should be no mystery by now that I'm obsessed with the cost of being alive. I've defended myself against my shortcomings in the marketplace of humanity by shaping my life around nullifying damage from the consequences, whether in real-world economic terms or some astral, metaphysical version which I don't have the words to explain.
Despite my efforts, I still cannot escape this simple fact: you always have to give up a part of yourself. You can try to run from it, or put it off, or fight against it, but you will pay. It's just a matter of time.
I'm losing steam here, so I'll wrap things up. I'm not hopeless, but sometimes it's hard not to feel it in the moment. I'm left wondering if I'll ever be strong enough to handle the mounting costs of the future.