How enchanting, how fun it is to feel a new character when the imagination arrives, then divide each paragraph into a story, like choosing emotions through words. How flowing, how the desire to be able to run and go freely, as if it can make the dead to be able to live again, even though all of that is not real. How fun it is one day when my rough fingers are typing, trying to say what's on my mind at that moment.
It turns out that there are always people who can't be spoken to and want to share everything. Because for him to write even though hiding inside is more soothing than talking. Maybe a way to fall in love doesn't have to end with being broken and crushed. Or also because the wound turned out to be healed. So that it can make him forget, how fun it feels to remove hatred from behind a story.
The charm, strain, and fun seem to be able to dance on a very deep puddle. Presenting thousands of strings of words that can make every soul hypnotized and sleep like in the arms of someone who is longing for love. Melting anger makes the mind mature to calm down when the storm hits. Weakening the strong temptation of lust that roars every time to do.
Writing allows someone to talk about the silent noise that is in their head. Makes one think of meaninglessness. Makes people let go of everything that is usually stuck in the real world. Bringing someone who feels far away, between humans and humans or humans with the Creator. Although only one color is gray, it can create thousands of rainbows there.
When hate is planted, goodness will be lost. When kindness grows, hatred will wither. As an interlocutor, writing is a moment where someone preserves their own handwriting and re-familiarizes them with the existence of pens, paper, and gadgets that are nowhere to make things easier. This is my talking friend who will never disappear and will never leave me alive in the world.