Have you ever watched the cursor blink?
Sometimes, I think of well-thought out phrases that could fill up the space it leaves.
Sometimes, I have flowery thoughts of possible love poems I could write to someone I love,
Sometimes, I think of the characters I could form from a day’s experiences,
Like that little girl who was holding her out her hand in a fist, as she walked on the road with her eyes closed.
Sometimes, I think of the few words I have and the probability of having writers block.
Then at times, like today, I think of what it represents.
I watch it blink,
I check for my pulse on my left wrist,
I cannot feel it.
Then I put the first two fingers of my right hand on the side of my neck,
“There,” I say excitedly
I watch the cursor blink, rhythmically with my heart beat.
“Life.” I whisper.
I write it down,
But the cursor keeps on blinking.
With every single character I write, the cursor keeps on blinking.
And I am amazed.
Amazed by how much it reminds me of life.
A vast space, waiting for me to fill it up.
Fill it up with a story worth reading.
Amazed by its representation of purpose,
A purpose which grows by the day,
A purpose larger than myself.
The cursor’s determination awes me,
A spirit that keeps on fighting,
It does not give up blinking.
‘When does the cursor stop blinking? NEVER’
I title today’s journal entry.