Monthly Archives: November 2017

Losing the spark

I’ve lost confidence entirely. Can I write? Can I tell stories that interest people?

I’ve been doing it my entire life. It’s been my only real dream.

But, sometimes, the brain rebels.

Doubt seeps in.

It rarely has to do with ability.

Most often outside circumstances gum up the wonderous works.

Can I do this?

Should I even try?

What if I’m not good enough?

What if my friends and family were just boosting my ego when they said I could?

What if the strangers who complimented me just wanted something from me?

Has the praise been honest?

Do I have the dedication?

Can I do it all? The day to day expectations along with this dream I’ve been hiding?

What do I do?

How do I do it?

In a field that relies soley on what comes out of your mind…

No deadlines.

No guidance.

No format.

Just you.

The “on your own” industry.

Am I strong enough?

When the flow and flair are raging up above, it feels possible. Feels probable. Feels inevitable.

Then the slump.

The hump.

The void created by external chaos and lack of confidence blocks all original emotional outpourings.

It all just stops.

There’s nothing there anymore.

Where did it all go?

Months ago I couldn’t sleep because my mind wouldn’t stop producing.

I would lift my head, half asleep, and jot.

5 times.

10 times.

20 times.

Until morning…

Now there is nothing to be extracted by force.

What happened?

Can I do this?

The answers are undoubtedly internal.

No one has ever been able to bring me back to life.

That. Well, that. Thats an inside job.

So now what?

I guess I have to dig deeper.

Find the gear that’s sticking.

Fix it near the clock that’s ticking.

I have to find myself in there.

That’s the trouble.

That’s the issue.

It all just works when I’m inside and not out.

When the outside is just noise.

When the world is just a racket.

When I’m me and it is it.

I guess I’ve got it.

I’ve solved it.

Here we go again on our own.

Ocean eyes

Her soul longed for the sea.

Her heart longed for him.

She knew she had to choose and she knew the sea could never break her heart. So, why was she so confused? So torn between the two? She knew better. She knew not to let her guard down and yet, she did.

Against her better judgement she let him in. A little at a time until it was too late. She fancied him, she cared for him. She looked forward to hearing his voice. To seeing his smile. To his hand finding hers as they walked along the beach.

To the feeling of his arms wrapped around her at night and his kisses waking her up in the morning.

How long could she go without these simple pleasures she’d become so used to going without and had now grown so accustomed to?

Would these cravings pass?

She had traveled the world. Seen more than most could dream of seeing in one life time. Yet, she longed for nothing more than to stare into his piercing green eyes.

They reminded her of the ocean she loved so much. Innocent and intriguing; dangerously inviting at the same time. A perfect mixture of green and blue that could only be created when the sun kissed the top of the ocean at exactly the perfect depth along the shoreline. A color only nature could create. A color that could never quite be capture in a photo, but one that, once experienced, it could never forgotten.

Whether it was sailing the Caribbean…


or off the coast of New Zealand…

It’s a color that is forever with you.

She could be miles from the sea and the shorelines that she had soaked in. The shores of that color, she had soaked in, countless times, and when she looked into his eyes, it was like she was there again.

Exactly where she needed to be.

She knew Her time was running out but, she said nothing.

Why couldn’t she just tell him how she felt that night on the beach?

Why was it so hard for her to express her feelings? To discuss her emotions? To let him in on all the secrets of her life he had longed to hear?

She needed to think, to clear her head, to wander, to write.

Deep down (as it always did) something told her to do what she did best; run.

So she booked a ticket, packed a bag, and left. After all, she was used to being alone…

But, when does it come to a point where one becomes tired of traveling alone?

Did she make a mistake? If so, which one?

Was the leaving the mistake or was it never telling him what he really meant to her?

Was it letting him in, in the first place?

Would she return to him?

Would he want her to come back?

When could she see him again?

Would he be waiting for her like he said he would or were they just sweet little lies that he knew she wanted to hear?

Would she eventually just fade out of his life?

Did he care for her like she cared for him?

When could she gaze once more into those ocean eyes?

Was she his “for now” or was she “his forever”?

The questions swirled in her head like the rip tides of her lovely ocean. Dragging her down, and out, and deeper than she wished to go.

The answers would be as unsteady and illusive.

I suppose,

she just needs to ride the wave.

(Written by Andrea)