Right Enough by Maeve

I’ve been waiting.

Waiting for the perfect inspiration. The perfect subject. The perfect muse’s whisper in my ear.

To make sure that my first venture into writing on a “big blog” was perfect. That it showed the best me I could show. So people would like my writing, be interested, look for more. You only have one chance to make a first impression, I thought.

I’ve been waiting.

For months. Each day, hoping something would spark, the words would come to me, I’d be able to create magic again.

I’m tired. Tired of not being perfect. Tired of not having the fire flow through me like it used to. Tired of waiting.