And then you reach the empty page, the twinge of bittersweet climax to bring all chapters to a close… Before writing new stories. Forgetting the certainty of clinginess & grief to the old parts of ourselves that we didn’t know we wouldn’t really miss.
Quickly scrambling for blank scraps in a composition notebook, whichever color matches the mood you bought it in, just to scribble even a bit of it in pen before the vibrancy escapes your perception. Bearing down with all of your centralness persuading it from leaping but it is alive and wild… and FREE. It knows it must be what it is regardless if that concerns you, so it oozes at your seams fixing to spill from your lips forming new pages. It inevitably makes a space for itself and there is NOTHING you can do to stop it.
(Photo by Nicolas Thomas on Unsplash)