// note unnecessary deep words who !!
is writing my biggest fear? or is it my most treasured gift?
i'm afraid. afraid that the worlds i could build in my head, the written words on my page, the flawless weaves of a universe i create, could swallow me whole. they're better than this imperfect reality, they're better than the demons around me. it frightens me how my ink can turn against my head, its source and drag me along through the lands and places i created, only to make these turning pages all i can think of. it could very well turn my mad, make me wish i wasn't in tune with the world, but instead where my ink was. i'm terrified. what if my pen and these crumbling pages dance around my head, disturb my thoughts or hurt me whole?
but i breathe this words.
they're the ink on my wrists, the prints on my page, the callouses on my hand, the phrases scattered in my mind, the delicate throbbing of my arms, the gentle tapping of my foot, the rubber traces on the margin, the pencils and pens scattered on the floor, the brush in my hand, wonder what to scrawl out next.
writing is my home. the comfort that comes from the scratches and scribbles could never measure to anything else. the aura around my ink calls me, beckons me closer, unlike anyone else ever has.
maybe i'm just dramatic. maybe my head is only full of dark thoughts. or maybe i'm a writer, my ink and words my escape, and reality my cage.
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عشوائي[ WHAT IF MY NARRATIVE WOULD ... ] writing dump for original story (snippets), fics, and random things i write when i get bored:( [ ... BRING US TO THE END ]
