A blank page is like the landscape in my mind when I grip the pen and close my eyes. In that moment, I often feel lost. To ground myself, I create a background—a reflection of my mood. Today, it’s a desert: a distant horizon, a setting sun moving too quickly, leaving me unsure of what the dark will bring.
But in writing, I confront these fears. Whether it’s the darkness of the unknown or shadows within myself, I never give up searching for the truth. The truth comes from the source—from where we were created, imagined, and brought into existence. When I write from this place, the words become undeniable, untouchable, and true.
Writing the truth, even when it’s raw and imperfect, is where I find peace. It’s where I begin to see.