There is a voice I hear in my head.
The familiarity of it's demands leaves an ache in my forehead.
It forces me to stand up and try again, and again, and again.
It tells me to reach higher above the clouds and into the galaxies of possibilities or else I will be low into the ground of soiled promises.
It cannot be silenced for it is engrained in every neuron that fires in my brain.
I wonder what would happen if I didn't listen but instead worked at my own leisure in my meadows of thought.
What would become of me?
Would I melt into an unabled thing that trudges along or would I lose the will to create a life that isn't what people see in the future?
Would I become a piece of lint floating through the air and time?
The voice has silenced me with the fear of being without it. It has silenced me with fear of barely skimming the surface of what could be.
The voice doesn't tell me to drown, it tells me to swim even when I want to lie still.
It is the will to keep going.