Maybe I just don't have my spark of magic anymore, or I'm just trying too hard.
I try to write on a daily basis, I really do. It's like I'm on a journey to find the determination and the swagger I had when I was writing. I don't want it to be something I hate because I do it every day and get tired of it. I'm sick of starting so many projects with plenty of potential, yet abandon them because I lack the confidence, determination, or discipline to get everything done in the end.
This feels like I'm pushing myself to another limit here. This might be something I'm doing to become a better person, better writer, better student, and better overall at everything I might do. When I push past the mental blocks and the feeling of empty desire I might have when I put my pen to the paper or the fingers grazing my keyboard, I feel like I'm running a football drill: pushing a sled. My talents are my fellow players pushing the sled with me. My mental subconscious goal to write every day is my coach, blowing the whistle to chew my ass out. When that whistle blows, and I feel like I can't go anymore, I'm just pushing harder and harder. Trying not to tighten up, trying not to write something terrible.
I'm reminding myself that I'm a damn good writer, and if not now, I will be in the future. I'm putting in all the work I can to become a more dedicated, more focused, more confident, and more effective writer. I'm ready to finish what I started. When I push back through those blocks, I feel like I'm running through the heat of the sun, against the wind. Just pushing harder and harder, thinking how I couldn't go on anymore, my body screaming in pain, drenched in sweat. But I wanted to go until I passed out. I wanted to write like an athlete, working like an animal, and an artist, for the love of their craft.
I became tired of letting these mental roadblocks ruin my life. I'm a great writer, and I'm the one most capable of holding myself back. If that's really the case, well, I'm gonna be alright. If I can contain myself, I can contain just about anything.
I'm pushing my sled up the hill. Except now my mentality is very different. I'm not thinking that I can't go on anymore. I'm not dejected. I'm not reminded of my failures as a writer, failures as a planner, and any of my shortcomings I've had in the past. I'm pushing forward with my determination. If the only thing I do is let my mind rule me, I'm pulling myself backwards rather than looking ahead, to the top of the hill, to the future.
I write not just with my head, but with my heart as well. My body's screaming, but my heart screams for more. It wants, it demands to be emptied.
When I keep moving with this newfound mentality, I run and push like there's no tomorrow. I reach the top of the hill, realizing that this obstacle wasn't so difficult after all.
The whistle blows as I reach the top of the hill. I see another, more prominent hill ahead of me as I slide down and take a few breaths. It's time to go, all over again.
The whistle screams again.
"GO!"
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