I am unable to find the time
I am time poor.
I fill my time with aimless TV
Watching and rewatching
I claim I am too tired
Not in the right space to
Either physically or psychologically
The same way I make excuses not to run
I’m just not in the mood.
My mood changes when I do
I feel calmer and more connected.
Not pushed off the surface of the earth
As if it helps my mental health
Makes me more me.
How can I call myself a writer when I don’t.
Why is it that I can’t write all the time.
I cannot force myself.
Uncomfortable with the lies I think I am telling.
Now I am here all I can do is write about wanting to write
I want to write something poignant
Instead I’m just a cliche.
A writer who wants to write,
but finds she can’t.