The blank canvas of a blank page, is meant for the words to pain a story. The taunting story of the horror that is trying to write one, is my nightmare. Every time I see this blank page, I freeze up. My thoughts turn to, you aren't good enough, you will never write anything worth reading. The fact that I can't seem to bring myself to tell any story worth wild is what makes these horrible things I tell myself true. The only problem is I know these aren't my true feelings, but they are the words of the people of my past. I have to learn to over come the voices in my head, in order to find the voice I am looking for it. One day when I sit down at this blank page, I will write a story that is worth reading, until then I will just keep printing up the stories I have already, maybe finishing one of them will give me what I want.
A wonderful story.
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