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  • Writer's pictureWojciech Salski


Updated: Apr 28, 2021

Sometimes you need to take a step back and relax, no matter what work you are supposed to do…

The boy was sat on the mattress, in his parent’s house. It was the same room he lived in before turning nineteen and deciding to move away from the country. Leaning against the white wall, below two movie posters, he looked around thinking of the necessity to clean up and re-organise this space once and for all, been like this long enough he nodded. He’s been back home for Christmas for a week already and feeling the laziness kicking in, he decided to force some effort and squeeze out a little creative juice from his brain, before it goes completely numb. It felt great to be home; enjoying time with family and meeting friends, but there was a part of him that worried about his craft and wished for writing endeavours to keep the flame alive. The boy took out his laptop and with the door closed, free from family-originating distractions, he started typing. He didn’t know what exactly was going to show up on the page, as per usual, but that wasn’t nearly as important as the mere fact of creation. Creativity is like a muscle he reminded himself quietly, it needs consecutive training with little breaks in-between…


His palms danced on the keyboard, as the words became sentences, and he could feel a slight relief flushing down his neck. He needed to write. He could feel it. Recognising how easy it was to get stuck in the rut of non-existent work, leaving all progressive actions of the day for later and completely relaxing, he was weary of such states. On one hand, his mind seemed to suggest that there always should be a little time ‘off the field’, on the other, for each day going past without work, the boy felt more and more anxious about getting back into it. You need to find your balance he thought and remembering the words of a certain speaker he listened to a while ago, and if you gotta work, you gotta work he added. Learning on the mistakes made, the boy was the best teacher for himself, whose job at recognising the difficulties of his own mind was the major one. He stroke his tangled hair, which reminded a bird’s nest, and looked at the clock, which announced the noon of the day arriving. Normally I would already have most of my tasks finished he pondered with a slight note of melancholy ringing its tune at the end of the thought, how come I feel suffering from these moments of relaxation though…?


He recognised the issue and did not like it at all. Wrestling with his own opinion on what should, could, and would be the right action to take on such instances, he pondered on the idea. The workaholic in him screamed for the work to be done; the voice of reason asked for the situation to be recognised as an ‘okay’ one; the haze-filled lazy pot-head of a person, he used to be, just laughed at the two and teased the boy to light up a joint. Hearing this argument playing out at the back of his awareness, the boy scratched his chin displeased, will you all shut up for a second…? The asking did not land, as the cacophony of discussion continued. Letting his hands type out the frustration his brain experienced, he grinned slightly trying to fight the negative emotions with a positive attitude, I am better than this shit he acclaimed. Restless in his seat, he splattered out a few sentences of nonsense on the page and stormed out of the room suddenly, feeling a sudden urge to eat.


Marching into the kitchen, in which his mother was preparing lunch for later, the boy didn’t feel like speaking. He opened the fridge murmuring a little ‘good morning’ to his parent and staring at the insides of the chilled cupboard, he stood there quietly. His mom turned to him, answered the greeting, and as mom’s usually do, straight away guessed there was something wrong with how her son was behaving, what’s wrong sweetie…? He flinched, feeling agitation raging within, and not taking his gaze of the fridge answered, nothing much, I just feel like I have no point today… a bit deflated I think… His mind offered a few questions on how a ‘deflated’ person feels, but the boy didn’t bother noticing. His mother approached him and patted him on the shoulder softly, everyone feels like this sometimes, remember that not every day you have to have ‘a point’… She smiled. It’s Christmas, it’s a day off she added, don’t worry…


The boy arrived back at his mattress with a cup of coffee as a companion and leaning closer to the laptop screen typed a few words before turning it off. Some days you should allow the laziness and lack of purpose take the wheel he wrote, it’s all about finding the balance…

Also check out my poetry:

Poetry | Creativeworks (

#prose #worklifebalance #relax #christmasthemed #letyourselfrelax

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