What it's like to be a writer
i sometimes hate blank paper. it feels like it's screams at me. It calls to me. Telling me i must say what my heart holds. But will the paper understand? Can it hold the heaviness of her words? Maybe but how long will it hold? a minute, maybe ten. Perhaps a life time? Now she wonders will the ink just run off the page? She just hopes the paper holds her truth.
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