Work or work?

Um, not much of a choice, is it?

Seems to be the only thing you can do. Work, rest, repeat. The real dig in this question, is work for someone else or work for yourself.

As my life proceeds my optimism about what can happens shrinks. Hope is on the decline as am I. Still I move toward a glint of light in the dark trusting, that’s really not the right word… expecting that it’s really just a trick of light but moving towards that glint just to see for myself. If it’s the light at the end, great. If not, I found a cool, dark place to give up.

Wanting more, and I do, out of my life, is not that I haven’t found some of what I want, just not all. It’s simple, been simple all along, I want to live comfortably off of my (by which I mean, my own) creativity. Defining comfortably, a small isolated property, no debts and the ability to pay my bills on time and have trustworthy transportation. I don’t need a manor and staff, a Bugatti, or even a Cadillac. I just need enough where the struggle doesn’t interfere with creating.

But as it is. I question that possibility.


Published Author at Anatolian Press. Debut Novel "Life Is In The Blood" out February 6, 2023.

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