Confessions.
I see her, sitting on those sheets. A flickering pen and book in hand, a face which once looked like a blooming flower now resembles my grandfather's chin, smudged, beat up, in all angles but the right one. Nevertheless, I admire her. One with such determination pleading for inspiration. I see but barely, the search for words in her eyes, thoughts floating away before she's able to use them. This must be terrible, what she's going through. To see such feelings and not being able to express them. My heart aches, I can't take it anymore, I wish to help but the BEWARE! THIS IS A NO GO AREA, STAY OFF sign tortured me away. So I make a move to almost turn away, then I see once again the flower I cherish, those glowing orbs spark up with fire in them, I see the pen, no longer flickering but dashing through pages of the book. This makes me smile like a fool, only if she knew.