Paper to pen is like hand to skin;
Hand and skin connects within.
You can feel it rub you the wrong ways, or the right ways.
You can choose whether or not it makes the cut
There's liberation in taking an easier way out.
That's the beauty of hand to screen.
It connects externally.
It enables isolationism through relatability;
Enables a sense disconnection without actually letting
you choose to expel your discomfort.
So which is better?
Are you at a phase where vulnerability is exposition for another?
Or one during which your whole body should face the prose?
At a crossroads, where you are unsure?
Wherever among either,
The hands are one of the body’s most telling extremities.
They reveal your greatest fears and joys in a flash
To both you and those around you.
They cry without speaking.
They bleed without seeping when connected to the page.
Embracing your cause;
That will determine their hand's potential.
It can feel rough sometimes, but just do it.
It may be one of those times that completion feels gratifying by the end.
Writing pen to paper is very there.
It is exposed and it is open.
Things are not quite, "let’s not and say we did" when it comes to writing.
Some argue that once you feel accomplished, it's done.
Others suggest that you can never let it go.
I invite both of those arguments.
The essential permanence sticks during both typing and writing.
However, there's a liberation involved with a more direct physical conquest of your darkest fears, and deepest insecurities.
One with which your hands bled ink onto the page in such a way that only you could.
Your voice, your hands. . . your power.
There is a spirit in your pen that only you can enable.
But there is a presence in your hand that carries itself through any keyboard.
While sometimes people deny all rights to it,
Your presence can leave lasting effects. Embrace it.
We’ll see how this changes when I write it instead
