Untitled, really.

Hello there, blank white page. In case you haven't noticed, you scare me. You, you intimidate - in the sense that I doubt your trustworthiness. I doubt you are worth my honest thoughts because by telling you, I'm opening myself up to possibilities of having people peek through me. And maybe it's not such a bad idea if these thoughts are well-written, full of wit, intelligent and cultured references and what not, but unfortunately for me, my inner thoughts really contain none of that. It's also not a bad idea if, like some darn good sharers of feelings out there, I am an excellent user of metaphors. Or at least, vague double entendres, that leave room for much interpretation. Layered. I am not.

I have been triple checking with myself if I really want records of my fresh-from-the-oven sappy writings on disappointment after disappointment (they seem to be the only thing I go through, at least for the past year) put on paper and the answer is a simple: no. Do I really want to remember, let alone allow others to read, stories of my life? I mean, what life?

The backspace key thus become my new favorite key, if not best friend, in the whole entire keyboard. So practical - a long holding of the key and it's as if your ugly sentences were never there. Endorses the feeling that somewhere in you, there's a great story to be told, and it remains there even if not a single word is put on paper. It lowers the volume on things I wish to voice out but fail to properly do so. It lowers the volume on my poor vocabulary collection, my uneducated sentence construction, my non-existent grand references.

Now that the year 2013 is approaching and my self hate has grown leagues greater than its size in the beginning of 2012, I'm thinking maybe it's time for real efforts. (cue a "pffftt" so loud and clear in my head) Maybe we should forget about fiction writing for awhile and start from the basic. Maybe it's time to be personal, write about something easy. Something I know. Maybe I'll write every day, just at least short excerpts of thoughts to know if I really am up for it. Maybe it's time I push myself to stop hitting the backspace for now and probably just write on.

If it turns out ugly, at least we'll have much erasing and editing to do by the end of next year. Which, I guess, is much better than staring at a blank white page all year long.