I'M Trying To Fix This

I stare at the paint I have smeared. Knowing it is time to give up, I refuse. You're tired, my heart says. You're exhausted. Sh! I say. I'm trying to fix this. The more I try, the worse it becomes. Bad brush, I say, throwing it into the water. The next brush is bad too, and the one after that. I get frustrated now. My painting is a mess. I need rest. My mind knows this. My heart refuses. I need to paint! she cries. Winning, she begins. Four more brushes get dunked into the water. They are all bad. Ten minutes later, the painting is thoroughly ruined. Completely non-fixable. My neck and my back ache. I am exhausted, and I am irritated with myself. I knew better. Why do I always listen to you? I think, admonishing my heart. My mind laughs.