Monday, 4 March 2013

A White Piece of Paper

I found a clean, white piece of paper one day. There was nothing too fancy about it. It was one of those commonly found pages that have blue lines going through them, to make the handwriting the even.
But it was beautiful. Not a single scratch on it. Not even a blot of ink was on it. It was like a clean slate, waiting to be filled with ideas. That one single piece of paper was not any less tempting that the first page of a brand new notebook.

It mesmerized me, and I kept it. I wanted to write something on it, put down some words that would be worthy of the purity that it showed, words that would enhance its brightness, instead of dirtying it up. So I waited, until I could find the right words.
And I waited.
And I waited some more.
And I waited some while longer.
And then I waited for quite some more time.
And one day, I forgot about it. And it got lost. My beautiful clean white piece of paper, lost in the abyss that we call time, from whence nothing can ever be found.

And then I realized something. My fear of ruining that blank canvas kept me from doing anything at all. All the grand ideas that I wanted to put down on it, were just mere ideas and nothing more now, because they never came into being. Because I was too afraid.

So in the end, it was my fear of ruining that paper that held me back from doing anything at all. All that I ever thought, all that I wanted to do are now a thing of the past. All because I never moved forward, and never went ahead.

All because I was afraid.

I am not making that mistake again next time.

1 comment:

  1. yeah, you'll never know unless you try!!

    ReplyDelete

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