Wednesday

"What inspires? Each time is harder to answer the question because necessities and motivations are before feelings, and pleasure confuses humans. Actually, not even the obligations but the possibility of getting out of them and receiving an immediate reward. In the middle of a civilization week, Wednesday, surviving the next two days to make it to the weekend is motivational but not inspiring. However, the beliefs and the artists.  She often thought about what would happen if he found her on a day like today, Wednesday out of the blue. Surely, he would remember everything that happened after she left him. He would remember how she had changed him for another and today, after so many years, older, fatter and uglier, but especially with more years, she would receive all that hatred that he kept, surely. Other times, especially when she wasn't alone, she thought she would see him miserable, insignificant. Old, fat and defeated. While she was beautiful, well, a little fat and perhaps with years that would make her look like a mature and desirable woman, even when she was with someone next to her. Wednesday, and she would feel sympathy and laughter, too, if she had changed him at that moment, for he was a good fellow. Just once, she thought of the love she felt for him and he for her. Only that time did he think of the joy of being able to see him without bringing the pain and motivations of that past. But if in what not only inspired her at one time, but also him.

Inspiration. Despite the contradictions and realities, that feeling feeds persistence. Not the patience. Understanding inspiration and distinguishing it from ambitions or valuing it beyond motivation is not easy in a world of scale and monetization. Is the artist really understood, the one who can only hate, and live in convenience? How can someone understand that trace, those words, the melody, that need to exalt the nakedness of body and soul, if that gaze does not shine? What do you know about inspiration if you have not crossed the threshold of perseverance to reach insistence? He told him from time to time in front of the mirror, in that safe solitude, in which he could not be accused of harassment or detachment. Yes,  the days are strange and the solitude seemed to be the best to survive. Sometimes it seemed unbearable and more so when you got older and had come to love, motivate and be inspired. But, the safety of loneliness was enough when he remembered how lying on the ground, he could only see the gray sky above him. Defeated. He felt no compassion for himself, just calm.

So, for some humans (not necessary artists or romantics), the inspiration is possible as a consequence of love. In a certain degree, more than the motivation for pleasure or compassion, the persevarence shows the importance of someone. However, it is difficult to understand the value of the inspiration, including educated or rational people. It may be due to the habit of the quick prize and the expected profit after the reasoning. Sometimes he fled from that rationality of his main social role. Some thirty emails, tasks to do and prestige (of course), did not generate enough pressure for him to put aside his reading and writing. He imagined how she was searching in the midst of her writings for what she could legally sue him for succumbing to his inspiration. That generated a certain adrenaline rush at times, but also sadness. -If I had motivated her enough, both of them would have overcome their fears and hatred. Would be wonderful. But it wasn't. Nor will it be. - He wrote.

Thinking too much about that past is not good for inspiration. and although the future motivates, it is now, real, that inspires. In the real, that inspiration is not a yearning maintained at the point of possibilities, but rather forecasts. Consequences but not a destiny, an idea but not idealization. The idea of exception and exhalation of the feelings to be better. the purpose that guarantees persistence and confidence. It is a concept more than a definition but always allows an answer. He wanted to sleep. He was tired of another Wednesday without an answer from her, despite the fact that she knew of his existence and his insistence. It was a lie that he had no pretension. But what was true was that he couldn't have it. Everything depended on her. And she was really doing something else, because for now she didn't need it. Sometimes yes, and that's when it appeared. But only for a few moments. The were very hard and sad moments, so much so that the nostalgia she felt for him quickly turned into hatred. And he? he just wanted to think less and less of her."