Fragments of Tomorrow

At 34, Jason knew he was running out of time—or at least it felt that way. Every morning, he woke up in his small, Brooklyn apartment, stared at himself in the mirror, and promised, Today will be different. The problem was, he often forgot what “different” meant by noon.

Jason had always struggled with his memory. It wasn’t just forgetting where he left his keys or zoning out during conversations—it was deeper, more pervasive. Short-term memory loss had become the silent antagonist of his life, sabotaging everything from his career to his relationships. And now, it was doing a damn good job of ruining his health.

He tried. He really did. He’d download fitness apps, write sticky notes, and set alarms to remind himself to work out or prep meals. But inevitably, he’d forget, lose interest, or convince himself it didn’t matter. By the end of most weeks, the scale remained stubbornly the same, and Jason was left with the sinking feeling of failure.

Monday

Jason sat on his couch, scrolling through Crunchyroll while a half-eaten slice of pizza sat on the coffee table. His latest attempt to “eat clean” had derailed three days earlier when his friend convinced him to grab burgers, and he hadn’t bothered to get back on track since.

“Okay, no more excuses,” Jason muttered to himself, pausing on an anime about a group of teens training to be heroes. He felt a pang of envy watching the protagonist, a scrawny boy transforming through sheer willpower and grit. He clicked Play anyway, hoping to absorb some inspiration through osmosis.

By the end of the episode, Jason was fired up. He dropped to the floor and did three push-ups before collapsing in defeat. His chest burned, his arms trembled, but the small victory sparked something inside him.

This is it, he thought. I’m starting tomorrow.

Tuesday

He forgot.

The sticky note on the fridge that read “Meal prep chicken” went unnoticed as he left for work, grabbing a bagel on the way. The alarm on his phone that buzzed “Workout at 7 PM” was swiped away during a gaming session. By the time he remembered, it was nearly midnight. Jason stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, frustration brewing behind his tired eyes.“Why can’t I just… stay focused?” he whispered.

The harsh truth hit him: motivation wasn’t enough. Motivation faded. He needed something bigger to keep him grounded, but he had no idea what that was.

Wednesday

Jason’s coworker, Anthony, was the kind of guy who could eat an entire pizza and still look like he lived at the gym. Jason both envied and resented him.

“Hey, Jay, you okay?” Anthony asked during lunch, noticing Jason poking at a wilted salad he’d picked up in a desperate attempt to salvage the day.

Jason shrugged. “Yeah. Just trying to, you know… eat healthier or whatever.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You’ve said that before.”

Jason felt his face heat. “Well, it’s harder than it looks.”

Anthony hesitated, then leaned in. “Look, I’m not trying to pry, but… maybe you need a gym buddy or something? Someone to hold you accountable.”

Jason laughed bitterly. “What, like you? You’d give up on me in a week.”

Anthony smirked. “Try me.”

The offer lingered in Jason’s mind long after their conversation ended.

Friday

Jason stood in the corner of the gym, gripping a set of light dumbbells while Anthony coached him through a basic routine. His arms ached, his legs wobbled, and he felt completely out of place among the sea of gym-goers who all seemed to know what they were doing.

“You’re doing fine,” Anthony said, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not about being perfect. Just show up.”

Jason nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he believed him.

Sunday

Anthony canceled their gym session, citing a family obligation, and Jason’s routine unraveled immediately. Without someone there to guide him, he felt lost, unsure of what exercises to do or how to stay on track. By the end of the day, he was back on his couch, bingeing another anime and feeling like a failure.

A Month Later

The cycle continued: bursts of motivation, followed by weeks of neglect. Jason’s weight fluctuated slightly, but his progress never stuck. Every time he fell off track, it felt harder to get back on.

One evening, as he scrolled through anime recommendations, he stumbled across an older series he’d heard about but never watched: One Punch Man.

As the episodes unfolded, Jason found himself captivated by Saitama, the bored, overpowered hero who trained himself to god-like strength with nothing but 100 push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and a daily 10K run. The simplicity of it struck Jason like a bolt of lightning.

“Wait… that’s it?” Jason said aloud.

It wasn’t about perfection or fancy routines. It was about consistency, no matter how small.

The Turning Point

The next morning, Jason pulled on an old pair of sneakers, stepped outside, and started jogging. He didn’t make it far—barely two blocks before he was gasping for air—but he didn’t stop. He returned the next day, and the day after that. Slowly, his endurance grew.

When Anthony checked in a few weeks later, Jason surprised him by saying, “I’m figuring it out. Thanks, though.”

Six Months Later

Jason wasn’t shredded. He didn’t have six-pack abs or bulging biceps. But he was moving, growing, and, most importantly, he was consistent. His memory still failed him some days, but he had built habits—simple, repeatable actions that carried him through.

One evening, as he sat watching anime, his phone buzzed. A message from Anthony: You’re looking good these days. We should hang out.

Jason grinned, feeling a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years: hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was enough—no perfect memory or external push required.

Still, he couldn’t help but think, Maybe life really is like an anime. The hero always stumbles before they rise.