There’s this terrible thing that happens when you get a job.

You get tired.

After 8 hours of mindless grinding, getting home and having the will to write seems nigh impossible. Any inch of creativity has been snipped short; all motivation dried up and cracked like a salted desert. So, it becomes another evening of SVU reruns and video gaming.

And, in between the grocery shopping and the weekend trips and the utter loathing that you feel towards your job, you realize that weeks have gone by and you haven’t written a single word.

It almost becomes this insurmountable thing, then. A twisting screw of a thought that makes the thought of bridging that gap a Herculean trial, as fleeting and impossible as golden fleece.

It’s already been a month, it whispers. What if the words are gone? 

You look down at your hands and are almost surprised that they’re still there. That they haven’t decayed to dust and disappeared on a passing breeze. But, your bones still ache at the thought of composing a single sentence, and you wonder if this how The End is.

But, then there’s one day where you pull up a blank screen, an empty piece of paper. Your fingers are curled from disuse, but from every movement a thought becomes real. It happens over and over

and over

and over again until this whole post has been filled with it, and you leave with three words that fill your heart with hope.

To Be Continued

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