Trying to Write
I held the pen in my hand. The feel of the clean, smooth surface of the wood against my skin. I stared at the blank crisp sheet of pure white paper, which sat on my desk waiting to fill. My mind is blank as always. I could never think, it was as if my ideas float away out of my mind and into the world to get blown away. Crumpled sheets of paper litter the floor with my dark blue pen marks on it.