This page is blank.
Blank isn’t good, because it’s so uncomfortably empty. The hollow pain inside from not eating nothing but Jell-O. The echoes of the silent house on the corner. The emptiness cries out to me, silently, begging for a chance to be filled again with laughter and smiles and love. Sometime’s it doesn’t get a second chance. Sometimes no one can fulfill its needs.
Do you understand my platform?
Pretty soon this abandoned page will be full, soon this notebook. My mind can never be emptied, it will always have something to say, wither about the political war or the Trans fat in cheese puffs. I can spend my every waking moment writing what comes to mind- become a hippie with few showers and a gum diet, but I will never run out of inspiration. Rather cheerful really, considering the billions of voices longing to be heard above all the others. Mine is being heard right now, as you read my attempt and deep, moving writing unlike your own.
This page is no longer blank, but, like eating those fatty cheese puffs, once you start, you can never stop.