I have been staring at the blank notepad on my desktop for the past hour and a half, aimlessly trying to satisfy its hunger with words of significance and meaning.

As I gaze into the pale and barren landscape before me, one thing has become perfectly clear.... I've got nothing.

Sometimes I feel as though the cursor is taunting me as it flickers in front of and crashes through the words I have written and erased a hundred times.

There just isn't anything to write about.

In two weeks I will be leaving the futon that I have been living off of for roughly the past year and moving into the room next door. As exited as I am to have my own bedroom and personal space, a part of me feels as though I will be living on the other side of the wall from my real life..... from the only life I have known here.

82.

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