I have always struggled with consistency.

Well. Not always. As a child I was obsessive about my passions, with seemingly endless reserves of energy, curiosity, and creativity to channel.

I was constantly writing poems and short stories, and reading books that I was sometimes too young to even understand.

I would be outside everyday, eager to explore and try new things. Climbing, running, jumping.

I taught myself how to ride a bike without training wheels, spending weeks practicing in the narrow corridor outside our apartment, one hand on the wall. I still have a scar on my finger from a particularly nasty fall during one of those sessions.

I taught myself how to inline skate. Then how to jump on them. Then how to go backwards and do simple slalom tricks.

But all that was a long time ago.

As the years have passed, my ability to stick to the things I want to do has dwindled. I keep abandoning writing projects. I’m inconsistent with my physical therapy and my workouts and my Parkour training.

I start things. I stop them. I start them again. And then they gather dust.

There’s far less issue with projects or tasks that have external factors involved. My studies, and now with work, I channel almost all my energy into because other people are involved. Other people are going to be disappointed. There’s consequences beyond my own disappointment in myself.

But when it comes to the things I claim to love… Reading, writing, Parkour… Even the things that are good for me, like my physical therapy, or better sleep/eating habits. It all goes to shit, really fast.

I can go on forever about all the possible reasons/excuses why. My struggles with mental health. My family slowly choking out my passions because they weren’t “productive,” so I could focus on my academics and nothing else. Maybe I don’t want it enough. Maybe I lack discipline. Maybe I’m just worthless.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

But I guess I can’t really figure that out unless I call out the problem, which is that the only thing I’m consistent at is being inconsistent.

I hate myself for it.