Tomorrow

Vagary. I don't know if that's a word, but if it's not, everyone can credit me with creating that word. Tomorrow. Vagary. Tomorrow. Vagary and tomorrow, they go hand in hand. Kind of like Bonnie and Clyde, peanut butter and jelly, and baseball and....sports. These two words are one and the same.

Vagary. Like I said earlier, I don't know if that's a word. But my intention was to relate to vague. Vague equates with unknown. If someone is "vague" with you, they tell you a little bit of what they mean, but not the whole thing. You get a visual outline of what they're talking about, but the flesh behind what they're saying remains hidden. Vagary.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is vague. Vague is tomorrow. No matter how you spin it, what different combinations of words you use, there is no denying that tomorrow defines vague. One never knows exactly what will happen tomorrow. If it's Monday, you know that tomorrow you'll have to go to school. But will you have to? What if you get sick? What if a family member dies during the night? What if some horrible tragedy comes about and the school doesn't exist anymore? You don't know any of these things the night before. You know basically what will happen, you'll go to school, then, if you play a sport, there's practice after school, and then homework after that. That's your outline. But how do you know how all these things will go? How do you know that a very close friend will be sick tomorrow and you don't have anyone to sit with at lunch? There's so much that you don't know about tomorrow. You know what you are going to do, but you don't know how exactly it will go. Tomorrow.

Vagary. Tomorrow. Vagary. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Vagary. Tomorrow. Vagary. They start to sound the same after a few repetitions, because they are the same. Tomorrow is an unknown, vague quantity that we deal with everyday. Vagary. Tomorrow. One and the same.