I paused from reading the book in my hands and looked out over the edge of the page in thought. The author was a columnist that I had remembered reading weekly over cereal before school when I was younger, someone I had thought was funny. But I was having trouble getting into the rhythm. Truthfully, it wasn't as good as I remembered it.
"I could do this," I said to no one in particular.
I heard that.
"What?" I looked across the room at the mirror hanging on the wall, and noticed the figure behind me. "Oh, it's you. Who let you in here?"
I'm always here, silly. But, don't dodge. I heard that.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Go away, I didn't really mean it."
Sorry, can't. And yes you did. Why won't you try?
"I DID try. And it didn't work, remember?"
Oh hush, you just got so wrapped up in the logistics that you forgot what it was to love to write. You learned your lesson, you remembered you love it, now do it again. Why aren't you writing what you love?
"I write! I make myself write something almost every day."
I've seen it. Except you write everything but what you're really good at. What are you so scared of?
"You know what."
Them? Why do you even care?
"I don't know... I just... I just do."
Look, this world is full of small people. There will always be SOMEBODY to tear you down. But there will always be more to lift you up, and they're the ones you write for.
"When do I have time, anyway?" I got up and headed out the door. "I've got laundry I need to go fold right now. And I'm pretty sure I told you to go away."
There will always be laundry to fold!, she called out after me.
I leaned back against the door frame. "That may be, but that doesn't change the fact that there IS laundry to fold."
Just how long do you intend to run away from this? You've already been running for a very long time. There will always be laundry to fold. There will always be dishes to wash, practice to taxi to, groceries to buy. And when your life is over, and you've spent all these years folding laundry and washing dishes, you will totally kick yourself that you spent every moment you had running from what you were made to do.
"I am doing just fine. I didn't ask for you to be here!"
No one ever does, kid. And yet here I am, your own personal Jiminy Cricket. Only I'm prettier, and traded in that ugly umbrella for wings.
"Wings? Those standard on Jiminy Crickets now?"
Nah... I just wanted wings. They're sparkly. It's not like you're some great picnic to work with, you know. I didn't know they still made people so stubborn.
"I'm sorry... I don't mean to be difficult. I'm just not ready. I don't know where I want to go, and I'm not ready. How'd you get stuck with me for an assignment, anyway?"
She smiled sadly and ran her fingertips along the edge of her wings.
I never stopped running. And yes. You are.