A blank page makes me nervous, like a class room where nothing is taught, so I dig deep to fill the void, and pull the words from my mouth and write them down to savor this thought. I note why my heart is pounding and my mind is never at rest, hoping that sooner or later I will calm the beast that is pounding in my chest. I write down why I have loved and why I have hated and while I am at it I write about these walls that I have created, the walls that keep people out the walls that protect, the walls that deceive and hide the fear of people finding out that inside I am all but perfect. The walls with no doors to let my real self out, terrified at what I might do or say, the walls with no windows, because I am scared that someone will see the real me. Keeping my grey side out so only my sanity shows, and I feel the walls inside me get weaker as the black continuously grows.
