I miss days I never lived and people I've never met because I look at brushstrokes on paintings more carefully than I care to admit and I find myself wishing that all texts were sent by mail
Maybe it's the fact that I cannot challenge myself to write on paper, due to it's permanent nature, and pressing 'delete' allows us to begin our days with a sense of carelessness that we nurture by highlighting every moment and pressing 'copy' and 'paste'
Perhaps it's the sound of the keys clicking beneath my fingertips that makes me feel as though I am making progress and productivity is occurring or perhaps the familiar music makes me feel less alone
Perhaps a typewriter could have done me some good as it would have taught me permanence and also echoed off my bedroom walls to remind me that my thoughts will keep me company when no one else will