I have always loved a good story. Times like these, when I am off from work & school I tend to devour books. It's so easy to get lost in a world that isn't like my own (or JUST like my own, only different lol), and marvel at the talent and imagination of writers. For as long as I can remember, I've always liked making up stories. When I was young--maybe 7 or 8-- I would create knock-off muppet capers on our old typewriter and beg my mom to send them into short story contents. She never did, but I never stopped thinking up stories.

I've always run from the title, "writer" (apparently, I'm not the only one). I certainly don't get paid to write, although I do love it. Even though I've yet to see a story in print, I'm still like the 7-year-old me, thinking up stories in the middle of the night. Lately, I've been getting back to my love of words. For the longest I was too tired, too lazy, too busy to just sit down and write. For the past few nights, however, I've been staying up way into the wee hours of the morning...writing. And it's been good. For the first time in the long time I'm not procrastinating. I'm just letting it flow, and not thinking too hard about it (this is still a struggle). But it's coming. And I'm so happy about that.

So, in the spirit of the 7-year-old me, I'm going to share a little something with y'all. Comments and critiques are always, always welcome!

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Untitled

"I can't believe this is happening to me again." Nina muttered aloud as she lay in her bed, annoyed.

For the past few days she contemplated the remnants of her life. As always, she had a plan, and as usual, it had once again been derailed in an instant. As she lay in bed, she struggled to make sense of her world. Struggled to figure out what to do next.

"Well, get up..." She told herself. She in need of some serious convincing, but didn’t move.

"Get up, girl. Snap out of it," she tried once more.

Again, her body did not move. And again she tried to will herself to her feet with empty rhetoric. Nina's mind was willing, but her flesh, very weak, choosing instead to remain in the comforting lull of her pillow top mattress. Although she knew she couldn't afford to spend another day wallowing in the blueblack coziness of her bedroom, she was just so tired. Not physically, but mentally, exhausted by having her dreams dashed, again.

As Nina lay in her bed, she didn't feel like fighting anymore. Didn't feel like getting out into the world and blazing another trail for herself, only to have it blocked by yet another devastating roadblock. Today, Nina thought, she'd rest. She rationalized that she’d spend just one more day wallowing in her defeat, and tomorrow she would scotch tape together whatever was left of her life.

Nina reached for her remote and flipped on the TV, hoping to find some sort of reprieve from the doubts threatening to overtake her.

She flipped on the Today Show and watched as Matt and Meredith tried some delicious, exotic concoction. Her stomach twinged. Nina hadn't eaten for two days. She hadn't even thought about eating, too busy caught up in her own head. But watching them dance around the kitchen taking large bites of spiced curry shrimp, made Nina suddenly want to eat. But it wasn't that simple, little ever is. Since her self-imposed hiatus from life, she hadn't been to the grocery store, and she knew that whatever was left in her refrigerator was probably toxic.

Nina’s stomach growled angrily. Instead of pulling on a hoodie and jeans to go to the store, she flipped off the TV, pulled the covers over her head, and slammed her eyes shut. She willed herself to fall into near coma, hoping that tomorrow she’d awaken, and this would all be some sort of hellish dream.

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Thoughts? Should I keep it going or kill it?
What are you writing/working on right now?
What are you reading right now?

Related:
Read the first part of the story I'm working on right now, "This Side of the Wall"