There are days when I fail and days when I let myself down.
If I eat terribly or my activity level is below par or non-existent, then its easy to find my morale in the shitter.
These are days when my positive thoughts bail and my ability to put my thoughts down on paper takes a hike.
There are days when I literally can't even... You know?
If you don't...that's fine too.
There are other days, though.
Days when everything I do is on point. Days when I don't wrestle with cravings. Days when I walk 7 miles.
I'm a beast. I'm a hero. I am king of the effing world.
On those days, I'm full of words. On those days, the job that pays my bill restricts my ability to take everything that that is tumbling in my brain, slow its roll and create a permanent space for it.
Today is one of those days.
My brain is to the point that every new thought that tries to take a seat on the bus is getting the Forrest Gump treatment.
"You can't sit here"
Something has to change. I don't know how to change it. I've tried. I'll keep trying though.
I'm in awe of people like Stephen King who figured it out, withstood rejection, just kept going, and built a life around what he loved instead of trying to fit it into a life that won't allow time for it.
I'm in awe of Jane Doe, who writes stories in her spare time and never shows them to a soul. I'm in awe of her because she does the damn thing; answers the twinge in her soul that drives her to put pen to paper. I know that twinge. I feel it on days like today, but I've learned to suppress it. I've learned to tell it to shut it's filthy mouth and let me review this car accident so I can get this customer paid.
Most of the time it works.
Today it fills me. I can feel it in my throat, fighting it's way out. I can feel it pressuring my finger tips when I type.
Remember the movie Idle Hands?
Well, my right hand is in the mood to murder some poetry, a short story, or free verse BS.
But...I have to work.
SO...
I literally can't even.
If I eat terribly or my activity level is below par or non-existent, then its easy to find my morale in the shitter.
These are days when my positive thoughts bail and my ability to put my thoughts down on paper takes a hike.
There are days when I literally can't even... You know?
If you don't...that's fine too.
There are other days, though.
Days when everything I do is on point. Days when I don't wrestle with cravings. Days when I walk 7 miles.
I'm a beast. I'm a hero. I am king of the effing world.
On those days, I'm full of words. On those days, the job that pays my bill restricts my ability to take everything that that is tumbling in my brain, slow its roll and create a permanent space for it.
Today is one of those days.
My brain is to the point that every new thought that tries to take a seat on the bus is getting the Forrest Gump treatment.
"You can't sit here"
Something has to change. I don't know how to change it. I've tried. I'll keep trying though.
I'm in awe of people like Stephen King who figured it out, withstood rejection, just kept going, and built a life around what he loved instead of trying to fit it into a life that won't allow time for it.
I'm in awe of Jane Doe, who writes stories in her spare time and never shows them to a soul. I'm in awe of her because she does the damn thing; answers the twinge in her soul that drives her to put pen to paper. I know that twinge. I feel it on days like today, but I've learned to suppress it. I've learned to tell it to shut it's filthy mouth and let me review this car accident so I can get this customer paid.
Most of the time it works.
Today it fills me. I can feel it in my throat, fighting it's way out. I can feel it pressuring my finger tips when I type.
Remember the movie Idle Hands?
Well, my right hand is in the mood to murder some poetry, a short story, or free verse BS.
But...I have to work.
SO...
I literally can't even.
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