An Empty Book

 

I had been waiting once for 5 years for just a title for a book I wrote, only to realized that it would never be named.

I don’t think this is a good idea to move to a new book without ink stained. I don’t have that special ability to read out of the blank. I can’t intuit the story out of an empty page. It’s like wandering in a busy street knowing no where to go, yet I just can’t stop moving. I have to paddle till I run out of energy before I finally fall to the ground and can no longer defend.

I should have been at least explained or shown. I have the right to know what was going on when I was also involved in that matter.

I know that when it comes to loving something, I have to fully trust in that, but not an unwritten book. I don’t have faith in thing I can’t see or feel. I was told the book was written this way or that way, but all I saw was nothing. I wanted to believe too, but I couldn’t do that blindly.

How about me closing the book and putting it back to where it belongs to for people who is actually be interested in emptiness. I think this would save a lot of time for both parties…for the book and me…