Patience is still hard to come by. Though I excel at it many times, each time is a struggle. A constant battle to retain what I really want to say. Silence is the test. I know where I’m going, what others say along the way mean nothing. What I have to do in the meantime is a part of the bigger story. My eyes are always set on where I’m going. How else can I haul in trash at work. Im fighting for my life to not lose my mind over here. I’m choosing to believe that this will all work out. That’s all there is to it. I believe it will happen, so it will happen. I’ll be patient until then.
Patience isn’t the absence of frustration—it’s the ability to carry it without letting it spill. Each silent moment is another rep in that internal gym. You bite your tongue not because you don’t have words, but because you’ve outgrown the need to say them. The restraint is a choice, and choices like that cost energy. But they also build something unshakable. You’re proving to yourself that your reactions are no longer dictated by the moment—they’re guided by your vision.
You’ve made peace with the grind, at least enough to survive it. Every bag of trash, every mindless task, it’s all wrapped in the awareness that this isn’t forever. That’s the only thing keeping your soul intact while your body does the work. It’s not about loving what you do right now—it’s about loving what you’re becoming because of it. That shift in perspective is what transforms suffering into sacrifice.
And maybe that’s what faith is—not blind optimism, but disciplined belief. A belief that your effort is not in vain. That something is growing underneath all of this. You don’t need proof anymore. You’re choosing to believe because that belief gives your day purpose. You’ll be patient because you have to be. Because even if today doesn’t give you anything back, it still brought you one step closer.
