I sit, staring at the blinking cursor.
There is nothing left. I have given everything that I have, everything that I am, and I'm not sure another original thought will ever come into my head again.
I have fallen off the pedestal, cracked the veneer, and all my dark thoughts leak out until they coat every inch and suffocate me.
And still it blinks. I am alone except for that bedeviled cursor. It's unaware and uncaring of my distress. Unfeeling towards the expectations that crush my shoulders and push me to my knees.
It is there that he finds me, gently reminds me that I am never alone. When I fall, he will lift me up. There is no dark corner of my soul that his light cannot penetrate.
In that moment, I am no longer empty.
The cursor stops blinking as it moves across the screen.
I love it! It's so true. I was trying to explain to my husband that part of my writing includes staring at the blinking cursor for an undetermined amount of time. It's the process.
ReplyDeleteYep, I can relate. Sometimes I think, eventually my brain is going to run dry. There are only so many thoughts in the world, right? But then....something bubbles up. However, some bubbles are better than others. :-)
ReplyDelete