Some mornings, I wake from warm dreams to the nightmare of a screwed up world, with horrible people Hellbent on making it worse. Days like that, only self-discipline and the warm body next to me give me the motivation to wake up. Specifically, the promise I made to him that I would wake up every day. There were witnesses, and there is video, so it's not like I can recant my promise.
Then, wrapped in global loathing and personal self-pity, seeking to avoid my promise, I bury my face against him. That contact reminds me that, damnit, there are good things in the world. There are things worth fighting for. That Evil wins if Good does nothing, blah, blah, whatever. Evil can wait five minutes. There are good things right here, in my little universe: hugs, smiles, laughter, cookies, puppies, sunshine.
He didn't hear me as I renewed my promise with a whisper in his ear. In the end, I woke up, not for the promises of the past, but for the promises yet to come; because it was worth doing. I rose, ready to embrace the day; only time would tell if the day itself survives to regret another failed attempt to stop me.