Brain: We should rewrite this scene and give it more action!
Me: But...I think it's fine how it's going now....
Brain: No. IT NEEDS MORE ACTION!!
Me: But.
Brain: ACTION!
Me: Fine....let's go add in action.
*hours later*
Brain: *haggard*
Me: *drained*
Brain: Maybe...maybe we should go back to the first draft?
Me: *stubborn* Not after we worked so long on this! We'll finish this first!
Brain: But...
Me: We'll decide which version we like better in the morning, but for now, we need to finish this current version.

A Friendly Regular

He eyed her with suspicion, this girl who came in to order the same meal at least twice a week. How was it that she had convinced half of his coworkers that she deserved the employee discount? She didn't even work here! Yet he knew that half of his coworkers would swear up and down that she worked at a different store, even though he'd heard it from her own mouth that she didn't. He studied her as she again walked in the door, to order her usual order. It hadn't changed in over a month, he doubted it would today. It wasn't like she demanded the discount or anything. She kept the same smile on her face, said the same thanks in the same tone no matter if she got the special discount that day or not.
He made sure she never got it when he was up front. Yet he never saw anger or disappointment from her when she was denied getting her food for less. She smiled. She laughed. She talked with him and the others easily. Not even complaining when he purposely overfilled her drink so that the soda spilled over the edges leaving the sides sticky.
He shook his head as she turned to take her seat in her usual spot. Whatever it was....he wasn't going to let her affect him. She wouldn't get the discount from him. Ever.

-Inspiration from personal experience

Freedom Run

Mouth dry I cinched shut my duffle, slinging it over my shoulder as I stood. Heart hammering in my chest I listened, half expecting that the man I'd been forced to call Father would burst through the already bashed up door yelling at me to get to sleep.
But I wouldn't be sleeping here tonight. Nor ever again if I could help it.
This. This was my permanent goodbye from the man who never loved me in the first place, the woman who I actually felt deserved the title of Mother already knew she wouldn't see me in the morning. Knew I'd been yearning to escape this house for years already. If only she had done more...perhaps I would have stayed. But as things stood...
I slide the window open, the wood barely making a noise in it's groove, for which I was grateful. I didn't need a creaky window giving me away.
I glanced around the room one last time to check that I hadn't forgotten anything, no longer really thinking of it as a bedroom. Satisfied, I slid out of the window and onto the roof of the garage, a short drop later, and I was on the ground, bicycle on hand, keys to the car I'd purchased days ago in my pocket. I couldn't afford for that man to hear the ignition starting in the middle of the night, so I'd parked the car at a lot nearby.
Foot on the pedals of the bike, I took off down the dark empty street without a backwards glance.
Finally. Finally I was free.

-Inspiration from a conversation.

Sleep?

I should have made more of an effort to take a nap.
I've been awake for too long.
Eyes open for too long.
The tension has come, the need for rest has taken hold.
And yet stubbornly I stay up.
Fighting the ache behind my eyes.
In order to get done what I wanted to get done.

....I really should have taken that nap....maybe it would have helped. Maybe....

The Offer

I knew it was coming. Ever since I found out my manager was leaving.
I knew that the Head Manager would ask me if I wanted to take the other manager's position.

Though honestly it's just a formality at this point.
Because I've refused that position multiple times now.

I mean, I know I'm capable and such of said position.
But it's not....a fun job.
Being a manager isn't fun.
And my goal is to do what I love.
And I love where I'm currently at.

So it's no surprise to the managers when I refuse to step up into a manager position.
Still. They ask....
I think in the hopes that I have changed my mind.

Still haven't.
Still won't unless something changes in my mind in the next little while.

But there's always that slight tension. That 'what if' plague of questions that follows me whenever I again turn down the offer.

Because...what if I should move on, and step up and do this and that and the other?

*shakes head*

It's enough to bring me slight tension and stress.

And occasionally enough to give me another headache. Ugh.
>.<
I need to stop getting those....
I need to stop tensing myself up so I stop getting those....

Just Let Me Write

It probably started off with me being frustrating that I had to go to work instead of being able to sit down and write like I wanted to.
And while work itself wasn't stressful...the constant movement and talking to customers and again, frustration at not having my computer on hand to jot down my ideas...sent the tension in my shoulders making its way up into my head.
That, and possibly a lack of proper food, and a good old fashion nap...
Probably contributed to the all night headache I ended up getting.
One bad enough that I physically felt ill with nothing helping at all.

Me: *watches murder show*
Brain: Oooo What if we wrote our own murder mystery?!
Me: Hmmm, that could actually be fun.
Brain: And then we could post it on a blog somewhere!
Me: True true, we'd have to write it out first.
Brain: We would need evidence pictures and video interviews and images of the suspects, and OOH what if we filmed the Capture of the Criminal!?!? We could even do polls where readers would vote on who they think did the crime!!
Me: ...you do realize that that's...a lot to do right?
Brain: SO?! IT would be AWESOME! Just imagine!
Me: I can imagine quite well, but perhaps we should just stick with writing it out and not relying on other things.
Brain: *pouts* That's no fun though.
Me: But it is more doable.