Forget What You Read…

I can’t think of how long it’s been since I’ve done this. Wrote a word on a page from my mind to ink or pressed a button on my laptop? How can I call myself a writer I’ll never know.

It happens all the time, I reach my peak and then hit a snag, a bump in the road. I stumble and lose my balance but only come out with minor cuts and bruises. Then something foreign invades those cuts, blood pools under the bruises and slowly I deteriorate. 

My pen dries up and I forget how to use it. I make excuses at every turn.

“The bleeding will stop once I start back again.”

“I’ll get to it soon, I just need to wait for the right time…”

“Oh I’ve been writing a couple days but it’s not very good so I’m taking a break.”

“I’m busy with work and just don’t have the time…”

“I have a lot of schoolwork and it just gets in the way…”

Stop. Just stop.

There are people out there who will help others with dried up pens and barren inspirations. People we love, people we don’t know personally but through their work. Very few are out to get us, we don’t have haters if we are invisible. So then the only person who actively gets in our way is ourselves. We can be our own worst enemies, but we’ve heard this story before. The question is how and will our endings be different from any other?


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