Blank Page

A blank page stares back at me. No words some to my mind. My mind is as empty as the page. Where did all the thoughts go that previously plagued my mind? Where did all the thoughts go that caused sleepless nights and an uneasy queasiness in my stomach? All my thoughts began to fade into nothing, just the blank page and me. The noise and distraction of the world fades to nothing. No one is around me anymore, no more white noise clouding my mind. What is this power of the blank page? This power to erase your thoughts and rob you of creativity. Nothing is quite as intimidating as a blank page. When you know you need to write, but there is nothing. Nothing. Such a powerful word. But what does that mean? The lack of something? Well, what is something? A page could be filled with words, but does that make it something? A life could be filled with actions, but does that make it something? I'd rather my life be a blank page than a page filled with deadwood. The most profound words come out when you don't even try. But if you force your life to come together, isn't that when stories are the worst? This is my blank page now full.