What are you going to write about?

What are you going to write about, he asks.

As if there was a subject. A task to be completed.

He only asks because he’s curious. Perhaps a little intrigued.

But I get defensive, tell him I don’t know.

That I’ve been wanting to write for weeks but that this life we are living, with so much focus on ‘getting shit done’ (his favourite term) doesn’t allow the space I need to feel inspired and creative.

At least, that’s what I wanted to say between screaming and crying.

Truth is, it’s been an emotional ride lately, and I’m tired.

Tired of being unbalanced. Tired of work. Tired of this city.

But that hasn’t stopped me in the past, to at least use those emotions and turn them into something good.

Poems. New places.

I hear whispers of truth growing stronger in me every day.

It’s time I listen.