A.k.a. “How I feel about writing”.
The power of words is timelessly underrated. The consequences of words we have handwritten late at night because we couldn’t contain them any longer have become the bases of our own lives’ mysteries. Words in letters we write to people within the realms of our minds–and never send– somehow have to capability to be transported straight into the receiver’s soul so that our words never go to waste after all. Words that we have written long ago, forgot about, then thought so much of later and put so much hope into them have become realities because some great spirit heard them and let them radiate across the universe.
Once the mind is free of constraint, God only knows what it is capable of. We have shoveled through topics that are supposed to make sense to us but have no meaning in real life. We have all been captives in some way or another…
But when we write, our souls are freed.
When I write, miracles are formed and released at a time only right according to the universe.
There is something magical about writing with my own hand. The words spill out onto the paper in front of me, and later I gape at them in astonishment, wondering where they came from. How can ink hold such lovely memories, such abstract dreams, and reveal what is hidden within the depths of my soul? This ink forces me to see what lies inside of me—it forces me to understand the reality of my self and others.
Most often, I explore lives and places unknown to me through the process of swirling blue ink across white paper between two thin blue lines. This happens subconsciously, and it is my thoughts becoming something existent. They are no longer hidden; they are swirled blue ink obvious to the naked eye.
And now my words shall be rewritten in electro-black ink, visible not only to myself but to you.