I stared down at the tablet in front of me. The blue pen in my hand run down to the last drops of ink and there I sat with not a word on my paper, just meaningless doodles from lack of concentration. I sighed and shut the notebook. It had been months since I had been able to sit down and write about something that really touched me enough to finish it.
Slipping out of my chair I walked over to the kitchen, passing my bedroom. The light was on and I could see it all. The books with the black cover with the red letters on the cover that read "My Romance With My Past". I had to smile as I looked at the display in my room. Why was it there? Because it was my first best seller yet. I had started writing two years out of college and found myself writing novel after novel, poem after poem, essay after essay. And I had found my time of creative flourishing. But now three years later I was back at the drawing board not understanding where to go next. I had written about everything and anything I could think of. But nothing clicked for me. Nothing I started gave me the urge to want to write more.
I desided against a midnight snack and took the detour into my bedroom. I sighed and laid down on my bed. Slowly fall backwards onto it the way the princess would as her knight stood over her his eyes intranced. But I was no princess and I had no prince.
My head rested softly on the pillow I looked up at the ceiling and tried to get my mind off the writing that I could not get down. It had continued to bother me. But I tried, and closed my eyes concentrating on the darkness under my eyelids. I could feel the outside world disappear. I could smell the strong essence of the shampoo in my hair and smiled to myself as it fanned out around me. I loved my hair for one reason, because it reminded me of my roots.
Wherever those are.
I never knew my parents. All I knew about them I had learned when I turned 18 and I got legal rights to my birth information from social services.
I remembered reading about my dad. Thats where I got my blue eyes. He was an officer in the military. With a crew cut and red hair. I never knew him but from the picture I saw of him, with the soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, I had a sense that he was a gentle, kind hearted man. I bet he never knew about me.
My mother, well I guess she's why my hair reminds me of my heritage. With long, flowing black hair, perfect cheek bones, and red skin I could only imagine how beautiful she would be in person. I had seen the picture, a million times before. I could just see her with her black eyes and proud Navajo heritage.
I just wished that the pride I had seen in her eyes had been so true. Actually as I had read on in the files that my mother had run away from home for reasons not explained and met my father at a young age. They had me and left me for adoption. I had wished that it had been on good terms but she left not even a simple notion for me to know if she ever loved me and gave me up from my well being... or her's.
I sighed and turned on my side to look at the display in my room of my novel. And that was where I had gotten the idea to write that. In it I had told the story of a young girl struggling to find her roots after loosing them even before birth. I told my story, but through a pair of different eyes. I changed things along the way that I know now I should have done differently. Basically I wrote my past, and edited some of my mistakes.
That had been only one chapter in my life, growing up. It had seemed like the longest time of my life. But actually it was the shortest. It only felt like the longest because I had to grow up so soon and pick up pieces to a jigsaw puzzle, my life, that my parents had scattered.
But eventually I finally found myself, or at least my past self and could finally live my present to find my future. It had all changed on one night out on a lonely balcony...
Lance
I had not thought about the incident for so long. It had seemed I had no reason to with so many other things going on in my life. First college, and then writing, the book, and now trying to continue to follow up novel.
I guessed I never realized that that night was the signifigance of everything that happened to me. How the words of a man I did not even know revoltutionized the way I viewed myself, and the world. And that was when it all changed.
For the better
I smiled to myself and rolled over in bed leaning toward the dresser next to my bed. I slapped the pen of the dresser and glanced down at the paper in front of me.
I took a deep sigh. And my pen began.
I stare out into the deep night sky. So clear yet so empty...