Somebody once tried to take one of my pens
I wouldnt let her because my entire life spawned from it's ink
I love red pens
they're normally used for grammatical corrections but I let my stories flow through them
I used a green pen when writing in the forest
Color schemes are important
My black pen is my safety net
Predictable and reliable
There's always a pen nearby
Pens are more important than paper
what came first though
rocks were the original pens
carving murals onto cave walls
keyboards are the new pens
typing away
there's something special about transmitting your thoughts from your brain
through your arm
into your fingers
controlling a pen
it's an euphoric experience
i know i've got something good when my hand starts to cramp as i write
sometimes my thoughts fly faster than i can write
pens > pencils
it's just that simple
i love the idea of permanence
i'm drawing a blank
my inkwell is running dry
i still have another minute on my timer and I'm not sure what to write
stop thinking
just flow
i cant type fast enough
i cant think slow enough
its happening again
the dryness
the blankness
this page
i cant even look anymore
just at my fingers furiously typing away
rambling
nonsense
who is even reading this anyways
does anybody really care?
who cares?
i do
that's all that really matters
i do this for me
i dont care about what anybody else thinks
that's a lie i tell myself
and others
but really i just want to be loved
dont we all
want to be loved
or at least liked
maybe appreciated
whats the topic again?
stupid question
i always go off track
(Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash)
This post is in response to the #dailyfreewritechallenge posted by @mariannewest & @improv. Today's (Day 78) prompt was "Pen". If you're curious about the #dailyfreewritechallenge, check out the introduction post here.