Rowan Oak• Show poetry

I have nothing pressing or highly entertaining to write about, yet the idea that there is a blank space out here that is mine makes my fingers itch and my mind race to clutter it with something else that is mine. I love the idea of making blank things personal. I love college-ruled paper because I can add so much to it...not that mere lines can stand in my way once I decide to truly get going.

If it hadn't been pounded into my head as a sort of crime, I would write on walls. Nothing smutty or stupid, but I've always loved the idea of living in a house filled with walls of poetry, adventure, romance. The squareness, roundness, and haphazardness of an individual's handwriting fascinates me. I love words. I love to write. The simple act of jotting down my name (as plain as it is) is wonderful. I think of future college essays, perhaps long and uninteresting ,and I glow at the idea of penning them.

Maybe I'm strange, but there is something wonderful about writing. I can take the time to think of what I want to say, and how I want to say it. It's just so safe and calm....unlike sudden harsh words that you can't take back. Nothing pressing me for an immediate answer, nothing raising it's eyebrows at my ideas...I can say so much more in writing than I could ever say with my voice. I feel free, confident at times, silly, carefree...just wonderful. I can decide not to share what I write, but I can't decide not to share what I say. Once it's said, it's said, but once it's written, I can erase it and start over.

I love having that option.