W

Words — War

Coffee shop alive, humming the rhythm of a Saturday morning well-spent. All around, people are sipping joy from cups and conversations, absorbed in the comforting maze.

Save for her. Tucked away in a dim corner, her space a world apart.

She’s far from comfort — no stranger to this struggle. A visage marred by furrowed brows, thoughts stick like stubborn stains, refusing to wash out.

Thoughts demand life right now on blank pages. She rushes to ink them down before they spiral out of control or, worse, dissolve into a void of nothingness.

She is locked in a cerebral chess match, pieces are dwindling. Her queen is toppled, and it’s down to a few pawns and disjointed moves. She’s in a game of checks and balances, teetering on a precarious ledge.

Victory? A rare nectar she yearns to taste. This is a battle of attrition she’s desperate to win.

Pen lifted, then dropped — a hesitation, a moment of doubt. A torrent of words follows, though what they mean, who can say? A pause, an audible sigh. Ink draws her bitter lines.

Sheet changed, the old one likely destined for the trash bin. Words wrestle and wrangle, trying to trap the right ones into lines and spaces.

Alone? Yes and no. She’s in a crowd of her own making, populated by restless thoughts and elusive plotlines, navigating an intricate maze of would-be stories.

Is she closing in on a peaceful resolution with these ideas that taunt and tease? Hard to tell. But one thing I know: I can’t look away. I can’t because the woman in the corner, warring with words and wrestling with her thoughts — she’s me, just as engaged in my tireless duel, to live and write.

Thank you for reading.