Pushing Through

I used to paint.  It felt good.

And then I didn't anymore.

I used to draw.  It was total bliss.

And then I didn't anymore.

Then I did.  And it was saving me and I was soaring.

But then, I didn't anymore.

Years past.  Many things changed.  Many things happened.

And then that craving... that need... that urge to soar came back.

But with it, something new.

Fear.

Fear of that blank, white canvas.

So I didn't do it.

But then I said, to hell with that.  I was going to do it.

I didn't do it.

I just talked about it.  I said I could do it.  I was good enough. 

I wouldn't let myself down.

Still nothing.

You're just lazy.  You have no drive.  You're all talk and no show.

LAZY.

That was worse.

Curl up into a ball, never wanting to be seen worse.

Humiliating.

But then... after awhile...  I heard it.

I wasn't lazy.  Those were just fear stories.

And it was okay.

I believed.

And so I started to push through.

I picked up my paint brush.

I opened my sketchbook.

I began to soar.

I remembered it.

It was shaky at first.  Still is at times.

Even frustrating when I start listening to the ugly stories.

I started to push through.

I am still pushing through.

All I want to do is soar.