There are days where I'd write insanely about the details, the colors and the smiles. And there are days where I'd just stare at the blank pages of my diary.

Those lines yearned to be filled with words, passion, and memories that I wouldn't tell anyone. They craved for the story that lulled me to sleep, the story that no ears would hear about and no eyes, except mine, would read.

But somehow, those blank pages were a relief to me. I used to write so much that I forgot how precious the silence of pages was. How amazing it was to see a page untouched by the harshness of a pen that would tell stories of strife and chaos in my life.

Those blank pages also reminded me that sometimes, words wouldn't suffice to tell what's going on in my head. That no matter how hard I tried to put my feelings into words, they wouldn't come easy.

Temporarily removed

Those blank pages were like the unfilled memory slots of my life...
Waiting for the right moment, for the most amazing things to happen.

I was learning to understand those lifeless pages in silence...
They craved for a story but sometimes, the story didn't have to be written,
for in the utmost silence, the most beautiful stories were told.

Image by Catarina