There’s something mocking about the little vertical line, pulsing on an empty screen. Blink. Pause. Blink again. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t panic. But, it dares you to make your first move.
We all know this moment. I know it when I started this piece. A fresh document, an empty canvas, a new notebook. The beginning feels heavier than the ending. The emptiness strikes at you, “What are you waiting for?”. “What if you fail before you even start?”.
And yet, the cursor keeps blinking, patient and steady. It’s a reminder that beginnings don’t need to be grand. They just need to begin. One word, and then another, and then a sentence. That’s how stories are born. And that’s how this story was born too.
Maybe the cursor isn’t mocking us at all. Maybe it’s encouraging us. Every blink is like a heartbeat telling you that you’re alive, you’re ready, and you’re capable. The page is empty, yes… but that also means it’s limitless. It has the power to hold a poem, a business plan, or a wild dream… but only if you dare to write.
So the next time you’re frozen by that blinking line, don’t see it as pressure. See it as an opportunity. Because every story, and every breakthrough once began with a blinking cursor.
So type something. Anything. The cursor is still waiting, but it won’t wait forever.
September, 2025
