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Hello again everyone!

I will admit, my writing has taken a backseat to everything else in my life lately. It’s not that I don’t want to write, it’s just that the inspiration has not been there or I’ve simply been too exhausted.

As a result of the writing I have not been doing, I’ve noticed something: my anxiety has been increasing. To be honest, I wouldn’t have even noticed it at first. However, as I continue on, I notice that writing has helped me to cope with my anxiety more than I first thought.

Now when I write, I usually don’t have a complete idea for what I am writing. I write down what ideas come to me and kind of wing the rest. Therefore, I have many stories with beginnings but no ends that are collecting dust.

I had sort of a strange occurrence last night when I had some down time. I was praying for some guidance as to how I can move forward in my life, because quite frankly, I have no idea.

Shortly after I sent out this prayer, I felt as if a kind and very excitable spirit was urging me forward. This spirit reminded me of one such story I had scribbled down ideas for but never really started. I felt as if she wanted me to write this story. Ideas immediately began popping into my head and I wrote down what I could remember. I settled at that for the time being. I have a feeling that I will be picking up that story again sometime in the near future.

I think that this occurrence is a sign that perhaps I am supposed to be a writer after all. Perhaps I am actually supposed to make money off it. I wish I knew why I have so many unfinished stories that are collecting dust. I guess I will have to keep at it and find out!

And that concludes my post for the week.

My ending poem this week is inspired by this post.


The camera lens

of unfiltered lives



the source of our demise


Saturate the source

a satisfying selection

of magenta mingled

with money, of course


It is really so valuable

to enlighten our ears

with our suffering

and unseen tears?


even with polish

and endless sparkle

the scene doesn’t stop

it’s an endless cycle


What is the texture

of a burdened soul

does it feel cold

or does it feel whole?


Perhaps the difference lies

within a new stance

Would we rather die

than take a chance?


Don’t blink

or else you may sink


dirty laundry

and spotless white shirts

so far apart

yet so near


Enforce no penalty

for wanting to bark

even though the danger

is getting eaten by sharks