What secrets you must posses, blank page, to be so expressionless, so silent. You are patient as you exist in hope that some great mind will create an immortal masterpiece on you, that some lost, hopeless case will draft words of difference and change on your face. You are so much more important than you think… Can you think? Do you have thoughts, blank page? Have you any dreams or hopes? Stories of your own, perhaps? Does your silence mean something? Are you really even silent at all? No, I know how to answer that one. I hear you, blank page. I can hear you with my spirit, with my soul. I listen with my passion, and my heart interprets your messages; my voice is yours— my words are your own, as well. You are my canvas, this pen is my palette; its ink is the medium with which ive chosen to create something beautiful, something new. Something that others can listen to as well. You are so limitless and free; so much so, that sometimes, you are relentlessly intimidating. You present me with a challenge, one which at moments, makes me question my worthiness to accept. Yes, worthiness. Ability and talent have nothing to do with this challenge, as some might like to think. Anyone can pick up a pen or a pencil and write. Anyone can construct a story, well-written or otherwise. Anyone can “know what they’re doing” when it comes to writing… But the true artist is the one who FEELS their art; those are the people that are truly worthy to accept your challenge. This is how I know I deserve to have a pen in my hand. I hope that one day, you won’t present me with so much of a challenge. Yet, at the same time, I hope you do. What are you exactly, blank page? Are you just a challenge? A refuge as well? The embodiment of a passion? Of hope? Yes… To me, you are all of those. You are a listener; my only listener at times. In moments of desperation, you are who I run to, you are the only one who is willing to help me when I need it most. You’re my pain reliever, my alternate aspirin. You are all I need to survive life, you have never abandoned me and I know you never will. So thank you, blank page; for not only everything you can or will become, but primarily for what you are, as you are.