Clean slate.

I stared at it for a long time. It was clean and there was a piece of chalk right next it. Combined, they were tempting me to write something on the slate.

It had been quite some time since I used a slate and piece of chalk. So I wanted to use them. However I did not know what to write or draw on the slate. Unfortunately at that moment my mind was as clean and empty as the slate itself.

I took the slate in my hands. Felt the cold black metal. Put it down. Took the chalk. The idea of spoiling the black metal was met with some resistance. The metal would no more be black if I wrote on it. I was not sure whether I could write anything on the slate that would be as beautiful as the blank slate itself. If it was not, effectively I had spoilt the beauty.

Should I take the risk or should I not?

I could wipe the drawing with a wet cloth to make it black again. However that would leave a mark on my mind that I had tried but failed to create something beautiful and I would have to live with that failure for the rest of my life.

On the other hand, if I did not draw anything on the board, I would always be tempted to do so and I would have to undergo all this introspection every time I looked at the slate.

Just a tiny innocent slate causing a big turmoil in my mind.

It was driving me nuts. The clean slate was laughing at me. I could not bear it anymore. I had to take a decision.

I drank poison.