A blank white page can be terrifying. So many possibilites in readiness. The potential of that same white page can be both exciting and taunting as I stare, wanting to tap out what’s on my heart, and also wondering if the words will even order themselves into anything comprehensible at all. I know that I want and need to write, but the part of me that constantly self-edits makes the idea ridiculously overwhelming.
Yet, here I sit. Listening to the chirping of a bird outside my window at the feeder; watching Holly sleep on her bed; staring at the ceiling, but at least I’m here.
Today is a new day with new opportunities to dig deep so that I can realize the fullness of my potential. To be present. To love myself. To keep writing even when I’m not so sure that I have anything to say that anyone else needs to hear.
Amy Rhymes With Purple 