Blank Page

The blank page before me sadly reminds me of my life. Nothing is there, and yet still I write, still I go on. If ever there were a time to give up, that time would be now. Is it hope that drives me? Pride that deprives me? I could leave the page blank forever and yet still I write. Still I go on. What have I done? Sadly, I shall live with this regret forever, if there is such a thing.