Writer’s Block.

Department stores aren’t made for children. Their little bodies shouldn’t be tortured by the overwhelmingly long aisles and skyscrapers we call shelves. Their busy minds create a lag for the ambitious parents who come prepared with a list and pen in hand. But, just as shopping is apart of our daily routines so is taking care of children. Please don’t get offended if my metaphors in regards to the little ones show no compassion and or understanding of who they are developmentally. Simply put, I don’t like children. Okay, I like them, but I’m more so scared of them. While this is for another post to come, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d start a piece headlined “Writer’s Block” with mention of children in department stores. As any blog post should promise, here’s my premise — as a writer, or an amateur one at that, it’s easy to get lost in the pushing and pulling of this universe.

There’s just so much going on! With the many happenings in my life lately, I’ve felt like a kid abandoned by their parent in Sam’s Club. Every evening I have this inkling to tend to productive things like reading, writing, and the atypical activities in my world like going to the gym. Yet, those inklings, just remain as such — wonders. I allow my mind to give me hints when I walk by my unfinished novel or see my running shoes which have become another stationary among my shoe boxes. As usual I make calls for reflection and evaluation in my own life. Call it a reminder, an annoyance, but I call it beauty.

It still amazes me how I entertain my mind with idleness. I live for progress but I swear I’m challenging it simultaneously. It’s seriously a battle of will. I would provide breadth and depth to this literally if I didn’t give into the urge of the other tabs on my computer screen so much. I realize this is becoming more of a worn out sorry for any of my faithful readers, which could be just me, which is totally fine. And if at all, I’m the only one dedicated to this particular pencil pushing, than I certainly do owe myself an apology. We all do, at one point in our lives, need to give ourselves the amends that is due. We’re destined for such greatness but we tend to the skyscrapers of Sam’s Club like tourists in metro areas, creating this enmity of progress and deserted dreams. There’s something so ominous about the decisions we make. I’m sure our intentions in life aren’t to inflict this challenge, but the truth is, it’s our will. And even if it feels like it’s thrown in our hands like a forsaken backyard item, it still is our own.


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