There is an emptiness in the air as I sit here, staring at the screen, waiting for the right words to present themselves to me. I look at the picture above this little box, searching for inspiration. Do I write about the picture? Or am I supposed to write something, and then find a picture to match it? Truth is, I have no idea. I can attempt at writing, and I can take pictures, but when I try and piece them together like puzzle pieces, they don't fit.

 

I've always wanted to be a writer. I read so much, it only makes sense, right? Yet everytime I try I come up emptyhanded. The ideas seem wrong on paper and my words are never right. Perhaps I'm not meant to be a writer. I've always wanted to be a photographer. To be able to capture such beautiful moments, such beautiful people, places, objects. But where I hope for crystal clear quality comes blurriness and where I hope for depth comes flat lines. Perhaps I'm not meant to be a photographer.

 

Is that even relevent? Perhapses never got anyone anywhere. I may not be a good writer, but that won't stop me from writing, and I may not be a good photographer, but that won't make me put the camera down. Artistic ability may not run in my veins but no one ever said I couldn't try.