White screen

One would think people get blue, but no ― I get a white one.

I can only see the tabs at the top, so I know it actually is my blog. I'd be pretty much clueless otherwise.

I've been meaning to write for a while now, but every time that thought comes back, I shake it off with something else.

Okay, a sip of tea.

I say it out loud, yes. I turn the mug around and try to figure out what kind of berries is printed on it. I never learned the proper names in English, which has pretty much ruined my vocabulary on the subject in others as well.

Raspberry? Mulberry? What's mulberry look like?

I stand up to pick up a dictionary and drop down even faster than I stood up. I think to myself how stupid I am. Google right in front of me and I'm getting a book. Silly me.

Is that why I don't remember the different names? Is that the reason I only pick up a book when I know that I wouldn't find whatever out otherwise? Is the white Google page strapped with a single entry line what's keeping me away from the small pleasures of life?

Do you remember getting letters?

And it's still there ― a white page ― only a different one this time. I don't know what's going on with it, but it's not loading. And all I can see are glimpses of a page I remember.

It feels almost as horrible as a blank Word document, reminding me of the lack of inspiration, eagerness or, simply, will to write anything.

A blue screen might be a bit more appropriate at the moment, with the whole mess going on in my head.

Feeling blue.

Where did that come from? From feeling uncomfortably chilly maybe? Or from the vastness of blue, both horizontal and vertical, which surrounds us?

Why not black? Isn't it the darkest? Well, maybe it's just not that bad.

Dark green or navy blue? Even purple. Or hell-dark red. Mulberry!

And all I get is white.