Your arms and legs are outstretched, holding on fiercely to the side of a cliff. You can feel sweat dripping down the back of your neck, as you try to climb the rock face: one foot, one hand at a time. You could let go--and fall down, perilously down--it wouldn't be a good idea. There's a fire down there. A burning, angry fire, waiting to catch you if you let go, or if you lose your grip, or lose your focus. Climbing upwards is harder. There is no enemy upwards--only safety. But you have to keep climbing. Too tired? Stuck where you are? You don't want to stay there, because that fire below you? It's rising, like lava.
Maybe life doesn't seem that way, when you hit the snooze button for fajr. It doesn't seem like you just lost your footing a bit. Maybe taking off a scarf doesn't seem like slipping down the face of the cliff a ways. But I think it is like that. Climbing up isn't easy. Getting up early to pray isn't going to be easy at first. Carving out time for Qur'an instead of video games--might not be easy. Each time you raise your foot and pull yourself upwards, you're getting further from the fire.
Until you slow down--until you let go of the practices you've added to help get you up the cliff. And then the fire starts keeping up. You can't stay still. You must keep moving, up, higher and higher. It means adding more, doing more, avoiding complacency. You have to push yourself--pull yourself, constantly, to get to the top, and to avoid the fire.