Mindless wanderings

The blank pages stares at me. Mocking my inability to create something worthwhile for it to proudly bear. As quickly as the thought is born, it slips silently away before its final realization.

I stand quietly as the world spins by, constant in its changing whereas I seem to always remain the same.
I have imperfections that remind me of my humility, reinforced by arguments with self doubt. Equally, I am balanced by the joy I feel at my strengths when they make themselves known.

In my tortured little mind, my sense of direction seems twisted and lacks realism, but it is in this world of fantasy that the basis for my reality seems to lie.

I send my anger, love, resentment and glorious anticipation into the written word, and the fruition of my imagination takes shape. Presents itself for public viewing, secretly cringing at the revealing of another small piece of my soul, but allowing the wonderment of this torture to fulfill my desire for promises I once made for myself.

As I wait for myself to return, I see the beauty and tragedy I am immersed in daily, and relish in the gifts it leaves in its wake. Drowning deep in my memories and awaking to a new challenge in the next blank page.