Rose woke up feeling, as she always did on such mornings, exhausted. Procrastination is tiring. It is draining to watch an evening creep in and know that you have let another day go by, empty and unused. The fear that you may never do what is needed, because the thought of doing it badly terrifies, becomes a permanent fixture in that nagging space at the back of your mind. It is the last thing to switch off at night, fueling restless dreams, and the first to wake: that rousing feeling of dread that forces you into yet another day.
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