It’s comforting to look at the pristine stillness of a blank page. It’s an Unwritten story. What will it be? What could it be? Will it be happy? Will it be sad? Will it be triumphant? Or will it be tragic? That is up to the writer. I have found that a blank piece of paper can sometimes be the only friend you have. The paper is non-judgemental, non-critical and almost always makes you feel better in the end. How many countless tears have been absorbed into the lines and fibers smudging the ink. The power of the written word reflected back from the page can be a harsh mirror. Showing not only you but the world your innermost reflection. Sometimes the pen scribes the most beautiful plateaus and Meadows of infinite Utopia. And other times the pen scribes the intricate formation of the jagged rocks one gets torn apart by when they are lost at sea and try to swim to shore in a hurricane. Or the indescribable loneliness one can feel when they are an anomaly to what is commonly accepted. Sometimes it can articulate the elation of connection. Often times words just pour out onto the page and as you read them back you realize the incredible honesty that the simple Act of putting pen to paper can be. As you stare at your blank canvas what will your story be? You then realize that you are the author of your own destiny. The story ends how you choose it to end.