[I have to say, some days I just coast and I think that's ok. I want to try my best every day, but I don't feel my best every day so I just can't get there. But that doesn't mean I give up entirely. I never give up entirely. I just plot instead of do. It's essentially the same thing except plotting sounds cooler then laying around staring at the cats.]
I fell to the ground the other day. I was walking along and then down I went and there I lay. I thought quite a lot about why I was there. And there was a moment when I thought it certainly was unfair. There were times when I thought I'd just stay. And there were times when I screamed to the sky, not me, no way. But I knew to the depths of who I am, that if I didn't pull myself up, then I'd just be back down there again. So with my hands I dug in and from the dirty ground is where this story begins. I embarked on a journey that day. A journey that through highs and lows, would show me my way. I suffered many an agonizing defeat, but each time I fell down, I renewed my struggle to my feet. And when I managed to rise to my knees, I knew deep down, that eventually I'd succeed. With each retreat I grew ever stronger, building upon bravery, not fearful any longer. And where my energy was sapped, bravery gave me all of that back. It filled me up with courage and resolve. This torture, this trap, I was surely going to solve. I had all the tools I needed, and with my new confidence I succeeded. In one last shattering gasp, I was back upon my feet at last. I breathed in cool air again, not dirtied by the ground at my chin. The wind gently brushed along my ear. I felt exhilaration now, not fear. I'd faced a true test of will, and I had succeeded and it had given me a thrill. I think now, I will try to climb over this next hill.
[See, the struggle for elephants is real.]