It was bound to happen soon, the crashing fall and the strange, ringing silence that follows.
I lose my voice, I can’t speak but the thoughts are reverberating round my mind endlessly. It seems that everything is numb except for the hot tears that splash down my cheeks.
I can’t do this anymore, I need to find myself and be who I really should be.
But in the end, life goes on. You wake up to a reality that you cannot change. You just keep plodding through the disappointment, the disillusionment, the resignation. It pays the bills, it gets you the things you want. And for that you ought to be grateful, even if you are trapped in a swamp that dulls your senses every single second.
I need to feel inspired again.
Pick up that pen again. Grab a moleskine. Buy that chunky watch you always liked but never got. Sit in front of the computer and type. Lose yourself in a beautifully and brilliantly written book. Shoot with that camera which is gathering dust. Read the papers and lose that cynicism. Sit back and watch the world go by. Absorb the soundscape. Close your eyes and feel the wind on your face. Let go of the responsibilities. Feel young. Smile into the sunlight. Tap dance in your heels. Laugh out loud with no sense of inhibition. Twirl in the rain again. Listen to your skirts swish. Touch a baby’s pure smooth skin.
I wanted to sit down over a cuppa and tell you everything but you looked so tired and sounded so distracted, I changed my mind.
I need to believe I can still do it, even if the odds are against me.