Searching for an empty paper.

We all have different ways of coping with unpleasant things. You may wanna run a long endless road while a friend of yours sees a movie and cries their eyes off.  I am a writer. I write about things to be able to let them out and see them from a distance. Of course there are other reasons as well such as storytelling, forwarding emotions and giving people something to think about. But I also write to clear my head.

Writing a piece is like catching the spook and tying it into a nice, beautiful package that you can observe as an outsider. This method normally works pretty well. Recently I have found myself in a troublesome situation. There is a theme that I would want to – and need to – write about. But I can’t. It seems to be not just another spook anymore.

There simply are some things that stick their edge too deep into you. So deep, that it may seem impossible to pull that edge out and start heeling the cut. They may be events, people, moments, details or points in your life that really touched you. The ones that really mattered. They are the ones that once were so important to you that you are not even sure if you want to let go. Even if the only thing left would be the hurt inside you.  The last bit, which reminds you of where you once stood and with who.

At the same time you know that without pulling out that edge there will be no real new. There will be no real morning offering you a whole new choice to write on that plain empty paper lying on the table next to your coffee.

You are not anymore where the past got stuck in you. And you never will. Instead, you are in this shady, frustrating place, lost there somewhere in the middle.

Not with that something you had to let go.

Yet not free. 


So, how can we loose that edge? I don’t know. But I trust everyone going through such a feeling will find out eventually. And when there'll be that morning with an empty blank paper next to my coffee – I’ll be happier than ever. 

Love, Penny.