when it’s all just too beautiful

Oh, it’s frustrating,

That little niggle that finds its way

To hook on you

When beauty gets too much

It takes your breath away.

I should be feeling blessed

Not green with envy like I am.

I’ve read some amazing stuff recently and it brought to mind a quote that I saw somewhere on the internet. I do find myself just having to stop for a while and just reflect.

It’s an amazing thing, and I should feel so lucky and blessed that I can read something that has such a profound effect on me. But the problem is that all I seem to feel is jealousy. I hate the person who wrote something so amazing; something that I know I’d never be talented enough to write.

All I can think about is my own stunted language that sits in my latest Google Doc. It’s like lumpy custard that I feel like everyone is turning their nose up at. Meanwhile, everyone is salivating over the custard from M&S that has all of those lovely little vanilla flecks in it. And the fact that I’m using custard as a metaphor for my writing is rather telling.

One day I’ll have something that I’ve produced that will be silky and sweet. But for now, I’ll just enjoy what other people are producing in spades and keep working at what I love. I’ll get there one day. After all, this is a marathon, not a sprint.

Much Love

Rachel xx

i miss my creativity

multicolored abstract painting
Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

Do you ever feel that you’re rushing too much? That you’re spreading your time too thinly?

I’m missing NanoWrimo this year because I’m so busy with my studies. I’m just about managing to run but my writing is gone.

But today I had some spare time and I used it to work on a story that I wrote last year. And it was blissful, getting lost in a world that I created, hanging out with a character that I have loved before.

Oh, how I miss being creative. I just hope that time comes back one day, the time to swim in a story that is mine.

Much Love

Rachel xx

i think that some baking would be good for me

decorative christmas cookies on the table
Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

I know that folding flour in

And heating ovens to one-eighty

Will chase away the fears and worries

All caught up in knotted necks

And hunched up shoulders screaming out in pain.

If I could bake and fill my nose

With cinnamon and chocolate drops,

If I could cover fingers in

A sticky dough to lick away,

Then life would feel a little sweet

With spice to make it fun again.

I’d cook away those throbbing aches,

Forgetting what it was that caused

Those fears I felt in heavy spades.