I’ve working on this for quite a while. I have pieces of my book in my blog. I know the beginning, I know how the story starts. I know she was lost and I know she found herself again. I know she fell in love twice. I know she’s a dreamer. I know her secrets and her fears. I know her mistakes and her perfections. I know the words, the sounds and the lyrics. I know the song she listens to when she’s sad, I know the song she listens to when she’s happy, I know the song she listens to when she wakes up and I know the song she listens to in her head when she sees you. I know the times she’s been let down and the times she’s let down people. I know her memories. I know just where she keeps her poetry so no one can find it. I know the good and the bad. I know how it all started and just where it started but I can’t find where its going. I don’t know where she’s going, its all there a blank empty page and I sit and stare at it, nothing comes to mind and I drop my pencil and grab a glass of water. I sit back down and look at the empty page again and suddenly it dawns on me that I’m her. I take my pencil again and realize that I can write her any ending, anything I want. A happy one, a sad one, anything I want. This is my book, my novel, my life and its perfect cuz its blank. Its perfect cuz now I get to write the good part. Its perfect because a blank page is full of possibilities, its just blank and perfect.