1/18/18

I never know what to write. Sometimes it comes to me immediately, but other times I have to sit and stare at the white canvas for hours, waiting for that colorful being to make its way into words and leave my fingers.

What is writing, really? It’s just a series of symbols mixed up into an order. It’s just a bunch of nerves working with muscles to send signals down into our idle hands. In fact, that is pretty much everything we “do”. Just bits of chemicals sending other chemicals to other chemicals in order to move some semi-solid masses. And what happens after we read another piece of writing? More nerves get moved around after seeing those mixed-up symbols on a screen or paper.

But that isn’t really it. It’s also a feeling. It’s someone’s time put into words. Their thoughts, their experiences, their life.

I can’t really put a word in it.