How do I begin?

His fingers hover above the keys. They tingle with excitement and anticipation as he sits there waiting, longing for the smell of ink on paper and passion in his veins. One word, that is all he needs. One word to set him off on the journey across this stark world where he will travel far and wide, wherever he desires, wherever his fingers take him.

One word.

And he will be gone. He will be free.

His fingers stop hovering, start dancing, and the clock's ticking ends instantly. Time vanishes, leaving only paper and ink. And maybe he bleeds from pouring his heart out onto the keys, maybe he cries because it hurts so much, but maybe he also smiles - because he is home. He is under the stars, waiting like a crouched, hungry animal for the daylight to come as it sneaks through the clouds; he waits for the illumination that only his mind and his words can bring. His words, black ink across white pages, are like soldiers traveling across a cold desert. He finds the sound of their marching intoxicating.

He tells himself that he knows where he is going, but as his fingers fly, he begins to feel unsure and doubt overtakes his confidence.

Can he stand to write forever?

He doesn't know how he would survive with no sense of time, no understanding of the world around him. The fire in his veins spreads through his body; fear has stabbed her claws into his heart and he feels like panicking. He wants to tell his fingers to stop writing - to leave this world and return to reality.

But he can't stop. The light slinks away and night approaches. He is lost in total darkness, but still typing. His heart pounds in time with the keys, sweat beads on his forehead and he cannot hope to get away.

Aching and burning with a fervor that cannot be controlled, he longs for his mind to be quieted, longs for the ticking of the clock.
But there is nothing, save for one question.

How do I end?