Confessions to a Blank Page

It’s late at night on a weekend as I write this. I’m craving whiskey and a cigarette, but I have black coffee instead. I like the bitterness of black coffee. It reminds me of the rare, true things in my life. There aren’t many things I consider honest, except black coffee and the words I write on this page, including the stories. I like this blog because almost everything I’ve written here is a product of how I felt in that moment. Some days you overcome your emotions; on others, they overcome you. I value this space for the honesty I’ve allowed myself, the extent to which I’ve expressed it. I’ve been referenced in other blogs, and some people have disagreed with me vehemently, which amused me. I like disagreement. It tells me they felt something and understood what I wrote. Disagreement is just part of the game. I respect their opinions. I don’t think I’m honest anywhere else apart from this blank page. The only reason I write on a keyboard on my Mac is so I can hide these files. I…