I can feel it.
Feel it tugging at me.
The one that urges me to stop.
To stop creating.
To stop writing.
To stop painting.
To just stop because maybe I’m
just not good enough.
But then, there’s this other part of me.
There’s this part that wants to rebel and
say, “NO! Fuck off with those lies!”
I may not be the best.
I may not be good.
But damn it all it brings me such joy.
My hands are being rebellious and hurting.
They don’t want to cooperate.
Gripping is painful right now.
So, I’m trying to let them rest, but I need to
write this. To get it out of my system.
This is the struggle I go through trying to live a
creative life.
My heart wants to do all the things. It skips
beats and gets excited.
Then my brain says no, you can’t because
you’re not good enough. You’re a failure.
My heart tries to tell it that it’s full of shit and
a liar. So my brain tries to get my body on board
with its nonsense by making it all hurt-y and
stiff and cramp-y. So then I have to force myself
to rest because my heart wants to do all the things.
Then the weather joins in and says oh hell no you.
It’s too fucking hot to function.
My body, not being tolerant of the heat wants to go
all melt-y like and be uncooperative.
So there I am in a vicious cycle of wanting and not
doing for one reason or another. Pain and heat,
being the victors these last couple of days.
But they won’t win for ever. The heat will break.
The pain will ease. Then at last I will come out on top.
And I will be in creative mode once again.
After all, I have five brand new canvases that I was
gifted that need painted.
And I have a few from my one craft store trip that need
painted too.
My easel is crying to be used.
So are my set of paints from Christmas.
My oh my those colors are so juicy.
Maybe I should just say fuck the heat.
Fuck the pain. Fuck it all and just dive in.
Dive into that juicy delicious paint and blank
canvas screaming for color. Dive in and create and overcome.
Maybe I should do that!
The Forgotten Muse 