Those who follow me and religiously consume my hurried raw pieces know how unconsisent I can be. They are aware that me and this art of spewing hidden pain don't really get along. That it is true we have a difficult relationship. One that proclaims me calling myself a writer is excessively unnecessary.
The why can be found drinking in an open bar with procrastination and this unwashable stain of feeling inadequate as a scribe. Perfection has been showing up randomly during the happy hour and with the miserableness of sharing my rather broken soul always tagging along.
Creative juices tend to dry up when I sink into these spaces. My beloved poetry deserts me and erotica won't even look at my ashamed self. Sometimes, it feels like a silencing grip is actively strangling my writer.
Writing never goes well with justifying what you write, I should know this. But still I choose to execute my toddling poetry and abort my unborn short fictions.
As writing is demanding. It requires attention and patience. Like building a community or a reader's base. Or like weaning one's offspring... One has to nurse it to maturity. That requires time. And it is time, I never seem to have enough.
You see, when you have to choose between a passion that doesn't pay well and being a reliable parent, you go with the latter. Overtime, this is what contributes to these unforeseen episodes of disappearance and such.
Awesome poetry pieces fade in the background chaos of trying to balance the impact of losing 40 percent of one's clientele to the current pandemic. Short stories gather in small paragraphs and try to hang out in the same environment then quickly follows suit.
Reflective pieces weigh heavily on this opinionated mind but are unable to find a way out and they too erode with time.
For a while, nothing blooms here. And when it does, it dies in the darkest corner of my overthinking mind. Never making it to any screen or any ink spill.
Finally creativity takes a bow and leaves my head to the darkness blanketing it with endless glitches.
This is where this time's glitches cease and its 3am so probably I should sleep!
Taken at my rural home and edited with Photoshop Express.
