Clicks of a Typewriter

My fingers hover above the keyboard, indecisive.

I have a whole alphabet, but no words to string together.

I started writing when I was young, but could never figure out why my stories never ended.

Maybe I understood life better then, because is there really an order to life? is it just one big ramble?

I want to be a writer, but I don’t know where to end my sentences.

I want people to read my writing

I want my characters to be real, not just pieces of paper.

Should I give up?

I’ve never finished something I’ve started, so is there really a point? Or should I just want to write for the love of writing?