The screen on that big shiny screen keeps flickering. I glance across the room at my laptop and sigh.
I should get up, my word could change the world.
My heart wants me to get up, and finish one of those pieces I’ve started.
I WANT to get up. I SWEAR I do…but I can’t.
I was always told that there was no such word as can’t, I have my doubts at 32 that my mom was right about that.
It takes me 10 minutes to shift into an upright position. Pain shooting up both legs from my knees when I stand. And of course there are the tears.
Just push through it they say. I tell them to shove it. You try being a Spoonie. A Spoonie just diagnosed with Fibro. A Spoonie who has two kids who help and worry about more that what’s possible…But I’ve gone off on s tagent.
I’m blocked from writing, because my mind is everywhere. I have 5 projects I’ve started and not finishd. I have a wonderful boyfriend that is sick too so who am I to take for granted our time. I have 2 kiddos that I want to spend all the world with.
But selfishly…I want time alone. Time alone to dream. To imagine. To get inpired. To be an inspiration. I have that 8 hours a day, well i did till the plague hit us.
Yet, the computer will still be untouched. Because of life.
Because I can’t crawl out of my nest of dispair.
I’m determined. I swear I am…my story needs to be told and I will find a way to tell it.