Between the empty spaces

Its so well sketched out in my head but it somehow dies when it meets the page. Even as soon as the first letter gets inked, the idea doesn’t seem as grand as it did in my dreams. The words don’t seem that special surrounded in all that white. They somehow lose all their meaning when they have to conform to lines, spacing and eligibility. Maybe its my handwriting but typing it out doesn’t seem to help either. In my head, these words had an identity and a rhythm. Now, they are just mute symbols like stop signs. I think I just have such high expectations for my writing. I hope that every single phrase I put down will resonate perfectly; will somehow reveal something in me unseen by me. I’m trying to explore the frame works of my self because I don’t really know myself fully. Sometimes I do get those moments of shining revelation, a deep clarity and a single line will echo itself out perfectly. I get those glimpses of myself and its like playing peekaboo in front of a mirror. It feels like I was almost there. Other times – most times, its a startling let down – just like now… 


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