My Stuck Chihuahua

I possess this power. An energy that, one day, can be so immensely powerful that it could help millions ease their struggles or touch a single soul so profoundly that it’s imprinted into their DNA. I know I have that power, but, there is a problem. I don’t know what it looks like or where to look for it.

I have no treasure map to lead the way and tidbits of complicated clues of finding the right yellow brick road. Yet, my brain is yelling and screaming at me to propel my ideas out of my head. They are equally matched by the mountains of slips of paper that contains fragments of ideas that cluttered my desk and notebooks. Ideas are itching to get out as if they are stuffed in a locked suitcase. The large worn down leather box it’s rattling and moving like a vicious chihuahua is stuffed inside. But like the dog, I am stuck. I lack the extensive vocabulary to be a writer, the technical knowledge to make a video or podcast, and insider tips to make anything good.

I know what I need to do finding answers to the questions and to keep my fears at bay. I need to do. I need to make. I need to stop talking and start doing.

So, cheers to the future and the shitty pieces to come.

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