It stares at me, it's blank essence having competing in a stare off with me. I try not to blink, try to force myself to overpower the urge to scrunch up my eyes and never open them again. They begin to water, a tear gliding softly down my cheek and then I close them. I've lost.
I reach up to rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. The sheet of paper stuffed carelessly in my notebook chuckling mischievously at my failure. It beckons me to try one more time but I decline it's offer. And that's when it hits me, the tiniest thing sparking an idea in my head. It expands, becoming not just a spark but a blazing fire speaking to me, "Write, write, write."