I Just Want To Write


The super stellar thing about having my own blog is that it’s mine to do with what I please. I really thought that having a writing schedule would be my answer to everything, making my blog exactly how I want it – but… It’s not; I was wrong.

Plans have changed.

I don’t want it to feel like an obligation. I miss writing to write. I’m an instant gratification kinda gal – I don’t want to have a blog post in my draft folder for 2 weeks…while it “waits its turn”.

I want to write, post & repeat.

If I see a daily prompt that I want to be involved in – I’m going to do it. If I feel like I want to crap & moan about something that’s obnoxious – I’ll do it. If I want to write about something going on in the news – I’ll do it. If I feel like writing a short story…yeah, you guessed it – I’ll do it.

 Who needs a schedule? 










Breaking Point

I live in a fantasy world rich with freedom; another day, another daydream. I feel imaginary warmth of the sun & the pseudo brightness pains my closed eyes. I’m there.

Where ever there is…it’s just not here. 

My eyes flash open & I’m forced to look at what my life has become. The bruise fresh on my arm feels tender and I’m running out of answers to the delicate questions. Is my soul not equipped with a breaking point?

He’s in a good mood today.

On the surface there lies lovely relief; on the other hand, days like today…my delusions are brought to a new level. The justification process within me is quite astonishing.  I long for days like this; everything is perfect. He loves me.

This is why I put up with it.


That tiny word starts haunting me as I begin to wrap my head around what it is.

Fooling myself is less difficult than fooling others. I smile a robotic smile hoping if I squint my eyes in a swift motion with my upturned lips that my happiness will be convincing.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to realize…there is no need to label it any further than I have. I need to stop thinking so hard.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Years of suppressed thoughts begin snaking their way into my undervalued brain while denial & justifications wrestle with this new-found logic.

For the first time, Logic wins; I win.

My imaginary departure from the vicious cycle that I’ve called life will no longer be repressed.  I quit. I’m free.

Dear John,
I'm leaving you. 
I'm no longer yours. 
This is goodbye.

The Daily Post: Writing Challenge : Flash Fiction.