A luminous square of nothing staring back at him.
Urging him… no challenging him to write something.
He types… then deletes it.
He types again… and deletes once more.
The past few hours have been a constant cycle of typing and deleting.
Someone has told him that he needs to open up.
Be more personal. Show more emotion.
But how does one describe emptiness? How can one define it?
It has no size or texture.
No form or color.
But it is ever present.
It blocks out the sunshine of a beautiful morning.
It sucks out the joy of victory
It is sitting next to you in the passenger seat... silently…..
Transforming a delightful drive into an arduous journey….
It sitting behind you at meetings… lying next to you in your bed…
Even accompanying you to the shower….
It is not a sickness so you cannot treat it…
It does not have form so you can’t fight it.
It is everywhere… It is in everything….
But it is nothing.