I’m trained to never give up. There is no success in failure. I’ve been screamed at, stomped to the ground, kicked to the curb, and smoked sixteen dozen times until my arms wouldn’t bend and my legs wouldn’t move.
The only penalty for failure is death. And it’s not an option I’m willing to accept.
I’ve been shot at, damn near stabbed, been in more fights than I care to remember, and stared into the face of crazy itself. And yet I still persevere and go into work every day because that’s just what you do.
Then how come it’s so easy for me to give up? To just say screw it. Maybe another day, another time? How come it’s so easy for me to just walk away, to cave into that one little voice in the back of my head that loooves nothing more than to sit there and be an absolute smart-ass?
How come a blank page is so scary?
I work the line between abject poverty and extreme wealth. Every day I see the haves and have nots…and the prices people are willing to pay and the blood they so willingly shed.
It’s a depressing existence, fluttering between two worlds and being party to none.
I come home to a loving family who is not loved by my family. Again, I flutter between two worlds. Positive and negative spinning in a perfect synchronized dance.
How do I find inspiration in a world so bleak?
Despite the rain, the clouds, the permeating darkness — flowers will still bloom. The sun will shine. And each day is a new day.
My inspiration comes from all around me: The beaming smile of a two year old happy to have her daddy home, the struggling people doing the best they can in the circumstances they’ve been birthed to and the victims of circumstance…the sheer excitement from opening a new pack of Magic cards or starting a new book. Will it be everything I hope it will? The lazy wings of a butterfly as it flits from tree to flower, sky to grass. The true colors of autumn in South Florida as the blue jays and cardinals come to wait out the winters up north…the listless, lazy crashing of waves on shore…I could go on and on.
It’s really, truly beautiful.
Every time I consider giving up, forgetting my writing, moving on with another life, a different hobby, another time, another place — I just think of the millions of other people out there every day, doing what they love, making the best of what they got.
It’s one of those things that just makes me wonder. If they can make it, then so can I. There’s much more agonizing ways to spend my time (root canal comes to mind) than sitting in an air conditioned room with my butt firmly planted on a nice, comfy chair.
So, even if I’m a year behind my deadline – I can do it. I know I can.
I’m trained to not give in to my fear. To never give up.
I will fight the fight.
I will not back down from the blinking black cursor and the blinding white screen.
Never give in. Never give up.