An Issue

14 Jun 2023

I have an issue. I like to write. I like the act of writing and the meditative state that can sometimes be brought on. It’s very refreshing and satisfying to see words created by my own mind, my thoughts and ideas, written down on a page, or tablet. Typing just doesn’t have the same level of cathartic release. At least, not for me.

Within the inane ramblings and deepest desires are carefully curated words that may never be read by another human for as long as I live. The drifting of the pen, back and forth, in a style that’s as unique as a fingerprint, creating an almost illegible imprint only accessible by those with the language. And even then, it can be difficult.

Herein lies the issue, if a persons handwriting can be described as hieroglyphic, so much so that others can’t even read it, have they even conveyed any meaning? In the same vein, if a person writes without intention, is it worthy of another persons time? For me, this takes away a lot of the enjoyment of writing, as I’m constantly worried about whether or not what I have to say holds any meaning to anyone but myself. Not that the opinions of others should get in the wary of my, or anyone else’s, enjoyment. But that’s easier said then done.

Nevertheless, as I’m writing this out on my tablet, something I haven’t done in a long time, the thoughts I’m capturing feel worthwhile and are words I’m happy to share into the void. Although, I’m not sure if it’s very wise to post an image of my handwriting on the internet for eternity, so I won’t.