So, with my world in absolute chaos due to tricksters making evolution happen, it dawned on me that I’m having a creativity drought. It was thrown at me yesterday as one of my gymnasts let out a huge groan followed by a very loud “Oh MY god!!!” as I tried to wrangle her teammates into setting up our stations. Granted, my usual passion in what I do has been tempered by the adult realities of life and I find myself regressing back into a few points in my life where I felt my fires either being snuffed out or just quelled to smoke by a dump of cold water.

But in my time off, my creativity has been seriously stifled. I remember days where I could churn out poems, most of which made no sense, doodled new animals to life, or imagined symphonies that would make the masters weep. But here I am, grasping at what others have created, in hopes that it will kick my muse back to life. Be the lightening that rekindles the flames. But always, I come back to the person(s) that would rather let someone suffocate, just to see those lips turn black. Those who I ultimately don’t know whether I should pity or ignore. The killjoys.

She is right. And that’s what those people do, they make you question everything. Feel worthless in your talents. All so that you eventually wither away and die. The Echo to Narcissus.