Working with a Block

I sit here, my face in my hands. Every so often I run my fingers through my bed hair. I shift as time goes on from couch, floor, kitchen table, to café, and it’s the same everywhere I go. My mind is silent. I can’t force the world in my mind to press to paper, or computer, or pen, it just stays taunting me, inside my mind. Worlds of magic and intrigue, love and betrayal, murder and mystery, all locked away in a brain too occupied with the real world to let herself be imaginative.

When we stop our imagination, push it aside in order to deal with life, that’s when we grow old, those moments are when we loose our inner child to the adult. Maybe I’m from Neverland, but I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to feel older.

I sit here in the quiet, staring at the bars locking me inside myself and I say, “Not today!” My hands grasp the cold steel and one good tug is all it needs. The bars burst into shimmering dust and float in the air around me. My smile lifts and my eyes tear.

“Welcome Back” is all I hear.

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