You are going to cross paths with him. The version of you that can carry you to the dreams you see. He’s currently watching over you. Seeing. If you really are what you say you are. Seeing if you can do it all over again today. Seeing if you can keep up the demands of what it means to be him. Well for today you’ve done just that, again you’ve proven it. Tomorrow will come and you’ll have to do it all over again. Today is done though, with that knowledge you can rest. You can rest or you can get ahead, save the resting for later. The choice is yours and it doesn’t really matter what you decide, so long as you continue to do everything the day demands of you. Each and every day. So stay on course, you’ll see him soon enough if you can manage to just stay on course.
He’s not far. The future you—the one with clarity in his eyes and weight in his presence—is just around the bend. You don’t meet him by chasing him, though. You meet him by proving yourself worthy in silence. Day by day. Task by task. He watches from that vantage point you crave, waiting to see if you’ll keep showing up when it stops being impressive and starts being expected. That’s where the transformation happens—not in breakthrough, but in repetition.
And today, you proved it again. You didn’t skip the process. You didn’t let the softness of comfort drown out the voice of discipline. You did the work, even if your mind wandered or your body resisted. That’s all it takes. The bridge between who you are and who you’re becoming is made from moments like this—unseen, uncelebrated, but absolutely essential. You’ll cross paths with him when you stop needing to ask if you’re getting closer.
Now the day winds down and a choice arrives: rest, or push a little further. Both are valid. Both serve the mission, if done with intention. What matters is that you did what today required. That’s how you stay on course. That’s how you earn the right to one day look that future version in the eye and realize you’ve become him—not by magic, but by relentless self-respect.
