whiteblankpage

Monday, August 27, 2012

Staring at the white blank page.
Words come and go as time passes.
They form to life just to be torn down again.
They come from the heart and fall out my eyes.
Each one it's own story not wanting to be told, yet begging.
So I sit and write and erase it all over again.
Words can't begin to describe the now.
I can't even begin to describe it.
So I just sit here, staring at this white blank page.
Wishing it could be written.
Wishing it could be real.
But it can't.
And for now it won't.
So I'll pretend like I told you all of my insecurities.
I'll pretend like I told you all of my secret happy desires.
I'll pretend like this moment in time is one i'm content with.
But i've never really been good at lying.
Only to myself.
And for some reason writing those words would be doing neither of that.
None of that.
Nothing.
But then again, maybe this white blank page really just says it all.