Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the land where our dreams come true. All we have to do is to start.

The image, “Winsor McCay, 1930 - TOMORROW” by Alan Light, was licensed using the CC BY 2.0.

This text was presented at the poetry slam in Hamm in December 2013. That night I won the golden hammer. Here’s a recording, an English translation of the text can be found below:

Tomorrow I’ll tell my friend what I’ve always wanted to say—my opinion, about that thing, the one that’s just not okay. And tomorrow I won’t be afraid of losing him as a friend. After all, we’re good friends, real friends. You should be able to say things like that to each other, right? You should be able to look someone in the face and say, “Hey, buddy, that’s not okay.” Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find a better job. Maybe I’m worth more. Maybe I don’t need to do so much. Maybe there’s something better, or nicer, or with more interesting tasks. And tomorrow I’ll ask around. I’ll read job ads. I’ll contact agencies. And tomorrow I won’t be afraid to throw myself into something new or to burn old bridges or of what my colleagues might say. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll start my new workout plan. Finally get rid of this gut. I’ll stick to a diet and train for at least half an hour every day. Starting tomorrow I’ll be a new person, and in six months my friends won’t even recognize me. Tomorrow I’ll go to the gym and I won’t care that everyone else looks more fit than me. I won’t think about all the years I wasted living unhealthily, and I won’t beat myself up or eat more out of shame than I should. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll finally ask out the guy I’ve had a crush on for months. And I won’t care if he says yes or no, because tomorrow I won’t just know that rejection isn’t the end of the world—I’ll feel it, deep inside. And tomorrow I won’t be afraid of the pain. I won’t look at myself beforehand and feel too ugly compared to him or think that someone like him could never like someone like me or that I’m a fool for even thinking he might say “yes.” Tomorrow I’ll just ask. Tomorrow.

“Tomorrow” is such a beautiful word. So soft, so round. T-o-m-o-r-r-o-w. It even starts well—with an “mmm,” the sound we make when something tastes good, a hum that vibrates in your belly and makes you feel good. Then comes the “o,” the sound of pleasant surprise. Then the “rrr,” like a soft murmur between lovers. Or, depending on your accent, an “ahh” of relaxing comfort. Then a soft “w.” Imagine it were a “k”—“tomork”—how awful would that sound? But no, it ends with a soft “ow.”

And then there’s the word “today.” What a dreadful word. It begins with “to”—harsh and utilitarian, evoking long, hard work in the fields. An ugly sound. But then it gets even worse with the “-day,” a curt, punchy syllable like an old hag barking at you with disgust because you dropped a candy wrapper. “Day!” As in “Pick that up immediately, you uncultured swine!” The only word worse than “today” is “now.”

Three consonants gang up on one poor, lonely vowel in that word, bullying it into a single tiny syllable. We won’t even talk about the word “immediately.”

Basically, any word that means you have to do something now—“today,” “immediately,” “right now,” “instantly,” “chop-chop,” “on the double,” “stat,” “without delay”—all of them come with that drill-sergeant bark built right in. They make you flinch on instinct. But all the words that give us time? They’re soft. They’re lovely.

“Soon”—it slips off the lips like a dewdrop from a rose kissed goodbye. “Later”—a gentle whisper, like a mild autumn breeze. “Eventually”—well, okay, there are exceptions.

Tomorrow is the land of promise, where all our dreams come true. Tomorrow, we have no trouble doing things or getting stuff done. We’re not overwhelmed. We’re not afraid of what we can’t do or haven’t achieved yet. Tomorrow is a beautiful moment—it’s the one we long for in the now. Tomorrow, we’re slim. Tomorrow, we’ve made progress. Tomorrow, we had that uncomfortable conversation. Tomorrow, we got rejected and didn’t even mind. Tomorrow. Just survive this day. Then it’ll be tomorrow. Until the day comes when we no longer have a tomorrow, and all that’s left is a long string of days trailing behind us. Days that were once tomorrow, and then became yesterday by way of today.

Yesterday I wanted to talk to my friend.

Yesterday I wanted to look for a new job.

Yesterday I wanted to go to the gym.

Yesterday I wanted to confess my love to that guy.

Gone. Lost in a moment with no tomorrow.

I need to use today while there’s still a tomorrow. I’m starting now. I’m talking to my friend now. I’m looking for a new job now. I’m starting my training now. And I’m going to ask out the guy I like.

Soon… tomorrow.