On my 18th birthday my grandmother gave me a typewriter as a gift. She said that she knows that I have so much to say in my mind and that this is the best she could ever give to me. I found it strange because I don't write nor have a writer within me. The truth is: I'm not familiar with words. It is actually one of my greatest troubles. I don't know how to pick them, and when to use them.
I find it hard to sort out things to say that sometimes I just choose the comfort of silence. I find it admirable for people who can easily express themselves and wish that I could do that too just like them. What would it be like to be able to speak yourself? I guess it's very liberating; being able to free your thoughts with words. It must be nice to live a life without being misunderstood...
Maybe that's the reason why she gave it to me. Maybe, she can understand silence after all. Maybe.
A typewriter, huh? Grandma has a humorous way of thinking.
"Free your mind to see the magical world of words," I read the card inside its box.
I smiled with the eccentricity of my grandmother. I remembered she said how this typewriter can write my thoughts on its own and that I could no longer worry myself in controlling it. If only it could. To have your thoughts recorded on its own would make the world filled with unspoken words; a library of the unvoiced; the unspoken books and stories.
Could others read those words too? When in silence they have already failed to be understood...Maybe or maybe not.

YOU ARE READING
Antoine's Curious Collection of Arbitrary Short Stories
RandomThis book is a compilation of my random thoughts turned into short stories