Moonlight streamed in after Harper as the window clicked shut behind her. The shape of her body was outlined softly across the grey carpet, and she watched it disappear as she stepped into the shadow of the wall to her right. It was a bedroom, with an empty canopy bed set in the centre, gauzy white curtains catching in the grey light and puffing out slightly from the small breeze that had entered with her.
Consistency, consistency, constancy
Something I have always struggled with is consistency. Building lasting habits and follow-through in my life. Whether it comes to exercise, writing, or self-care, it seems that every time, my self-discipline lasts for a week, a month if I’m lucky, before everything falls of the rails once more and I’m thrown back to square one.