I’m Breaking Up With Fear

Dear Creativity,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know we only speak on occasion, so I hope I don’t come on too strong. I think it’s time we take our relationship to the next level; I want you to move in.

The past few years with you have been breathtaking. I love how you notice the light dancing on the trees as the wind shifts the shadows of the leaves. I love when you see a beautiful branch on the side of the road, and ask me, “how many things could we make with that?” I love when you’re with a blank sheet of paper, fearless, grabbing whatever material is closest, and you proclaim, “let’s just do the damn thing!” I love when you do the damn thing, and it’s absolutely hideous, and you smile and whisper under your breath, “well that didn’t work, but I know all the things we can do differently next time.”

The way you perceive the world is addictive.

But then, you leave.

I don’t know where you go, who you’re with, or what you’re doing when you aren’t with me, and I don’t really care. I don’t mean to sound jealous, our relationship doesn’t need to be exclusive, but selfishly, I want you with me, everyday. When you’re gone, I tend to get lonely, and invite Doubt over. He’s an asshole, I know, but he’s comforting when you’re not around. As soon as I invite him in, I always regret it. He’s very clingy. His cold hands interlock with mine the moment he arrives, and he doesn’t let go. He won’t let me pickup a pen, or even look at a canvas. If I do, he gets angry, some may even say he’s a tad abusive. I’ve asked him to stay away, but he seems to only respect that request when you are close by.

So I am writing to you, not just to ask, but to plead, that you try living with me for a while. I promise to honor you and respect you, I promise to listen to you, I promise to play with you everyday, I promise to trust you, and most of all; I promise to leave Doubt outside in the rain (we can even get a restraining order against him, I swear, I’m DONE!)

Please let me know if this is something you’d consider.

Forever yours,

C