Original Advice
“DONT: Don't promise forever if you can't promise Friday.”
Stop Selling Infinity, Show Up Friday
Admit it: you've proposed lifetimes to people you won't text back by Thursday. Your aim is true until a newer target glitters. You mouth vows like fireworks—loud, bright, gone. They remember. Your calendar remembers. Your body remembers. Every broken plan is a breadcrumb trail back to your own avoidance. If you can't keep a weekday, stop renting out eternity.
Grand promises are camouflage. They buy you applause now and space later. Infinity is abstract; Friday is invasive. Specifics pin your wings; so you inflate the sky. The cost is trust. People stop believing your sunshine. Your own intuition stops believing you. Choose precision over poetry. One confirmed plan rewires your fire. Aim smaller. Land it. The thrill survives.
Cosmic Context
You are mutable fire, ruled by Jupiter. Expansion is your religion, but accuracy is your ritual now.
Action
──────Confirm one plan for Friday by noon Wednesday. Show up.
✨ You are allowed to be vast and still show up on time. ✨