Scattered and passionate, Janey struggles to transform the addiction. Her creativity supports her intention but her weak will tells her the addiction cannot be contained. Still, this writing seems so powerful; if only she could manage it. Pens of blue, black, green and red are scattered all over her floor like sprinkles on a cake. Notebooks stacked on the futon, floor, closet shelves and dresser pester and mock her, accenting the sprinkles but harassing her about the terrible habit, this pleasurable anguish. Not one piece of her ever-multiplying collection of writings has been finished. Her struggle is constant; she continues to fight. Empowered by her new orange notebook, she reaches for a red pen and tells herself, "This time will be different. This time I will control you."
Cautiously, she opens the notebook. Fresh lined paper is exposed like young skin as buttons are undone in young love. She swallows the anxiety and uncaps the pen. This is where it begins. This is a new beginning. This is her chance. She lets her nervous lashes fall down over her eyes and feels the excitement of this unique moment. As the subject and its essence take hold of her, she exhausts a breath of power with force and touches this virgin paper gently with the tip of her ready pen. But then the ink starts to pour and all inhibition flees the scene in haste. The hand cannot be held, the words will not be stifled. Like a rush of cold air they spill through the crevasses between the blue lines like blood from a wound. The flicks of her wrist and eyelashes build a temple to hold this flurry of passion, frozen in time just as they are formed like rain in a Michigan winter. As abruptly as wind began to whirl, it ceased. Janey falls back against the futon is if the breath went out from her blood. As if unremembering the past few minutes, her eyes wander casually around the room. Dust is thick on the shelves. With a snap the pen is capped and the used, orange notebook meets a pile of brethren, discarded and abandoned, lonely forfeits. Another idea is lost to distraction. Another vain indulgence testifies to her addiction.