I’ve been wrestling with this story I had in mind for three days now. Three long, frustrating days of staring at my screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, typing, deleting, rewriting; only to end up with something that feels hollow. No matter how many changes I make, the words don’t quite capture what I want to say. It’s like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.
Desperate for a fresh perspective, I escaped to my favorite neighborhood meatball restaurant. The cozy garden, dappled in warm sunlight, the aroma of broth and spices curling around me. It should have been the perfect setting to unlock my creativity. But even as I sat there, twirling my spoon absentmindedly, my mind remained tangled. I did pour the idea into my laptop, though… But later that night, when I reread my work, the disappointment hit like a punch to the gut. Still not right.
The next morning, I couldn’t bring myself to touch my computer. The frustration sat heavy on my chest. But I had no time to dwell on it. I had promised to visit my mom in the morning to help cook for her birthday. In that situation, a part of me resisted. If I could just finish this piece first, maybe I could truly enjoy the celebration. But a promise is a promise, so I dragged myself there and my creative burden trailing behind me like a shadow.
