Blank page again. My freedom for expression excites me, yet induces fear. My silenced voice infiltrates dread by potential words escaping composition. Yet my fingers continues clicking keys, my heart inspires threads, and my mind filters curiosity, imagination, and reflection. Each ending fosters new beginnings with foreboding joy, overpowering elation, and emerging freedom. Balance keeps me from full throttle of excitement, the climax unreachable at an author’s endpoint. Insight into my hero’s journey lies there. Writing marks the pinnacle of my existence; it is while inscribing my insides onto paper that I thrive, grow, and thrill my inner senses. Within written expression I AM ENOUGH marks the world as my truth unleashes from my heart. I AM ALIVE! Blank page again fills.