I never know how to begin these sorts of things, for blank spaces unnerve me. 

Blank spaces mean endless potential, anything can be created here. Anything, for better, or for worse. 

When I see a blank space, I recall the idea of snow. 

Snow will imprint. 
Snow will reflect. 
Snow will melt. 

Snow never looks the same in the end from how it began, but the memory of it lasts forever.  

Snow is never ideally perfect after it's been touched, just like this blank space. But, snow can be left with more beauty than it did at the start, when it was empty, clean, perfect.

Beauty isn't perfection, just like this once blank space. 

Just like my writing. 

Just like my world.

Just like myself. 

Let me add imperfection to this blank space, let me add my own beauty to the expectation of what this space should look like.