Before, I had nothing.

An empty bottle of ink; no quill.

Endless. White. Space.

Before, I was silent.

a pin cushion to prick.

a bag to punch.

no sound, just space.

Before, my emotions hurt.

Knives slicing skin.

Blood dripping.

And then I wrote

And all the sudden life opened up worlds collided love blossomed everything and everyone held joy and strength

I wrote about me

I wrote about the world

I wrote

I held my emotions in a loose fist,

letting them sprinkle the pages with color and texture

And after, I stood up

the floor littered with letters and words and punctuation

my world was finally filled with life

The life of writing.