A physical pen, my weapon of choice, is a common and simple contraption that is also instrumental. It records history and materializes the imagined, which often blends into a new twisted reality. Its weight of power has been very well documented throughout the years. Nonetheless, it is a forgotten object in my everyday life, or rather its abundant presence is overlooked.
I usually pick up a pen in a haste to accomplish a task like to grasp a fleeting item for my ever expanding to-do list or to write a quick note to loved ones about whether the dogs ate dinner. Every once in a while, I grab a pen to capture a small spark that fizzles out within seconds. Almost never do I let the pen become a cannon of fireworks, exploding with perfect phrases with terrible grammar that ends with my hands aching with a dull pain.
I miss it. I truly do. Although, my empty promises to write more would come from the eternal love for it and not from the realities of the time constraints and unpredictable amount of ‘focusing hours’ my brain has.
So, right now, I can’t do anymore than what I am giving now. I need to spend my energy elsewhere. But, I’ll be thinking of you, Writing. I’m going to save you for another day. Be back soon, my love.