a blank page

a blank page remains blank
only so long as you allow it to.
not a topic is needed, only your thoughts.
write what comes to mind.
mind what you write;
each word, inked or rendered, serves to set a framework
on which the next words can be set.
rules exist to be followed, but you set the rules.
the “educated” expect a certain sense of style.
who said their expectations matter?
write for yourself.
self-referential statements are looked down on.
i wrote that statement in preparation for this one.
i wrote the first statement preparing for nothing but writing.
i wrote that just to tarnish the blank page.
i wrote the word tarnish as though my words are worse than empty pages.
never be afraid to break patterns or expectations.
never be afraid to set new ones.
never be afraid to add lines in between lines.
never believe that your words can ruin a page;
any words you write are
right for yourself.
you made it here, you can make it again.
we grow and forget the joy of mistakes,
the benefit of mistakes:
you can only learn by trying things.
you can only regress 1000 words if you write 1000 words.
if you write 1000 words,
you can write them again.
but you will never write 2000 words if you are afraid
to take a word back for two words given.
people grow to believe others grew to expect them to succeed
first try. i expect you did not get that sentence first try.
i do not have the expectations you believe others have of you.
you do not have the expectations you believe others have of you
so why do you believe they have them?
do not be afraid to violate those expectations;
you are the one who set them.
you rejected yourself.
and if you haven’t, you should.
you have to reject yourself to realize that you can accept what you
write for yourself.
sometimes, i stare at a blank page.
it feels like staring into space.
it feels like staring down an endless hallway.
this is when i write about blank pages, and the hallway
spirals into many ideas
like a fractal.
i can explore any of those ideas infinitely, or
i can follow the path where it leads me.
the one thing i cannot do is sit at the top
looking down into the space where infinite ideas are
given the chance to be written,
and wonder why i’m never in the ideas.
the ideas remain absent ideas
only until i have them.