Another day in the in-between

I say “I’m a writer” but why is it so hard to write sometimes?

Why do I do  anything other than write, when what I need most is to write?

Maybe it’s because I feel I have nothing to say lately. 

I’m stuck in this weird world. 

Wake up, work, go to the gym, eat, work more, go to bed, repeat. Day in and day out. 

The days are the same but time stretches on.  

I feel stuck, immobile. I complain that the days are the same but I do nothing different. 

I like the routine, I like predictability, yet I have grown bored and irritable. 

Somehow it’s already March again.  It does not feel like spring. It does not feel like a year has gone by since the world stopped. 

I’m just wondering, what’s next? When do things get good again?

When will I no longer be stuck in the in-between?

I have nothing finite to look forward to. No vacation on my calendar, no big events.  

Is it up to me to change things? 

I wait for a sign but close my eyes. 

Just as I type  this, a bright red cardinal sits on a branch on the tree outside my window. 

“How nice for him to be able to fly wherever he wants” I think as I close this tab and go back to answering monotonous emails.  

Maybe soon something good will happen.