Wanting to write and not knowing how to start are the two biggest ilks in my mind's life right now. My mind's life being my inner thoughts. My artistic wiles, my emotion's rest. I have a lot going on in life, but I am acutely aware of how the clock is winding down on a timeline I must follow upon a tightrope schedule. Tip too far one way or another, or even enough to jangle my nerves, and I will topple my life to the ground. So to speak.
Leastways, that is how I feel. I have pounds to lose, work to finish, homes to move, and a spouse to support. It all seems so much, yet so amazing in its movements. Though my logical nerves spin and fray at all of this, my inner self is at peace somehow. I'm not sure how. As if I'm sure I am still on the right path. The journey is still meted out and will still find a way. How can I be so sure?
Faith in most part. In the other, my imagination seems to lead the remainder of the way. I am unstoppable. I am alive. I am quoting Sia titles. Nevertheless, I continue on. Anxious, excited. But surely now, an unstoppable force. And there are no immovable objects to slow me down.
