I want to fill you, I really do.

I want the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of words that are circling in my head to find their way back to you.

I want to ask you questions and evoke answers that challenge me to see new shades of gray.

I want to enlist you to share my dreams and find like-minded visionaries.

I want to tell you about my day, my week, my month, my year.

I want to fill you with happy pictures of sunsets, puppies, and long-lost friends.

I want to use your space to bravely go first and permit others to say ‘me too.’

And I want to exercise your expanse to untangle everything I am thinking and feeling.

But instead, I’ve got nothing, but this.

Blank. White. Page.

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