The Computer Cursor

     Look, it's really quite simple: I don't know what to write about.  I really never do.  I fake it really well.  And you know, there are some days where I get the urge to work on a particular piece or to write about a certain topic on my mind, but that urge usually only lasts for a little bit.  For the most part, I just there, staring at the blank white rectangle, sometimes seeing that cursor pulsing patiently.
     That poor cursor.  We don't talk about it very much.  We talk about the letters that appear suddenly in its wake, and the words that the letters form.  But that cursor has seen a lot.  It never forces you to hurry.  It never tells you a better way to write whatever it is.  Above all else, it always lets you go back and erase what you've done.  That cursor is the most forgiving, underappreciated thing in the entire world.
     I mean, there are people who can't do that much.  People who can't forgive, people who never dare look back, people who will constantly tell you different ways of doing something.  The cursor never does that.  It simply goes where you want it to go, usually forward.  It'll go backward when you need it, but sometimes, when it does go backward, you don't need it to erase every single footstep it's taken.  It understands that.  It won't erase your whole sentence when you're trying to get back to the first word.  The cursor understands.  It's patient and willing to do what you ask.  And if you make a mistake, it doesn't care.  It won't correct it until you tell it to.
     That doesn't mean that the cursor is perfect.  It's a little sensitive sometimes.  You'll be typing in one area, but then the slightest touch of your skin cells against a touchpad mouse and you're suddenly back three paragraphs.  The cursor doesn't know better.  It's trained to do what you ask it to do, and it can't tell the difference between deliberate movement and an accidental brush.  But it's still frustrating, especially if you don't notice.  But that cursor has seen some of the most beautiful pieces of writing in the world.  And it couldn't tell you about them even if it tried.  But you can tell the cursor anything you want.  You can write out the most simple or the most complex descriptions, and the cursor will listen.  It will faithfully plot along, leaving its footprints behind in the form of your beautiful thoughts put into words.
     Look at me.  I just wasted ten minutes of my life typing about the computer cursor.  But I suppose there's not much wrong with that.  I could be writing about much worse stuff.  And it's not as if I'm a very expressive human being.  That's just not who I am.  I'm the type of person that sits in an armchair, typing about the deep emotional expanse of a computer cursor.  No wonder I'm so low on friends.
     But I've come to terms with it.  After all, someone has to type about the computer cursor.  Why not me?
     I hope your day is as awesome as you.