Today has one finish line

It's barely morning and you're already carrying next month. Your mind has raced through the week, the season, a whole life without the thing that used to take the edge off. No wonder you can't stand up under that. You're hauling every grocery bag in one trip, handles cutting into your fingers.

That picture of an endless gray life without it? The cigarette drew it. It's an ad, and it runs hardest on heavy mornings. You don't have to live next month today. Cut the horizon down to something honest. Today has one finish line, and it's bedtime. Not a good day. Not a productive one. Just lying down tonight, still free.

And this goal can't be missed. The day ends whether you handle it well or not. Nothing has to be finished for the evening to arrive. Time does the closing for you, no excellence required. Even a day spent mostly on the couch still gets its night.

Leave the rest for the version of you who's slept. The call you owe. The mess in the kitchen. The question of whether you're doing any of this right. Hand God all of it in one breath. Get me to tonight. Tomorrow's Yours. Then aim for the pillow. Strength isn't today's assignment. Bedtime is. It's already on its way, and it'll find you free.