What do I wanna write? Whatever I want. That's the beauty of creativity. Creativity gives me a place where I can play God. I can create worlds from ashes and reduce galaxies to dust. I can smell the back-of-the-nose smell of burnt toast or the bright fragrance of freshly cut grass. I can taste the bitterness of coffee or the succulent sweetness of a strawberry. I can make myself cry rivers of tears, thinking of that boy in the second-floor window, or I can laugh at the troop of performing mice, doing cartwheels and somersaults for pieces of cheese.
Inside this 10-cent pen lies the whole universe. Once connected through my hand to my brain, the pen is one the most powerful tools we stoned apes ever came up with. It doesn't matter if I use a pen or pencil or feather or phone, the scratchings I make are the signs of my soul. From one human to another: I know you exist.
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