I stare intimidated. The blank page stares right back, cold and mocking. My palms sweat, my head hurts as I try my hardest to write something. The page whispers lies and insults to me. It felt impossible, like trying paint a picture while it's already framed. Starting is the hardest part, like a quest. You might contemplate whether or not your good enough or strong enough. Maybe you Think you're not smart or too smart. All you have to do is take that first step. Then you it's as if all hope and confidence floods into you, making to intoxicated by the feeling. I stare at the blank page and smile. It no longer stares back coldly. It welcomes me like an old friend. It invites me to start. I put my pencil to the paper and begin.