Although I have done a great deal to cover the white space on the walls in my room with prints by Mucha and pictures of Jesus with Alannah’s face over his and drawings of the Swamp Beast from last year’s Japanese class, there are still some blank spaces of white on my walls, above the gray smudges of my footprints.
I don’t have enough things yet to cover them. I refuse to use anything that is less amazing then anything else I have put up. My standards are a little high, I guess.
Still, I’ve come to enjoy those blank spaces. I think they remind me of how young I am, how much I still have left to do and learn. I will have so many more memories to hang on my walls. I’ll fill them up until there is no space left. Then I’ll be ready to die.
For now, when I look too closely at the blank spaces, I see roads and crossroads, experiences I haven't had yet, places and people I want to be. They shift off into the distance like mirages. I’m sure if I turned around, I would see paths already traveled. I never turn around, though. I’ve learned to think that it is better to look ahead than behind, better to leave someone staring at your back than to be left staring at theirs.
I want to walk straight into those blank spaces. I know I’ll find the things I’m looking for.
