I write now, without ink.

I write without gripping any tool in my dominate right hand.

My finger points and taps a screen and is made so that I make no mistakes.

But I am human and I'll find mistakes here.

And I'll write without writing, and share all of me without your phyisical view of me.

You will view me inside, but not out.

Shall I be beautiful using the tool that I grip now with my left hand, as my right pointer, points and taps?

If I use a pen, you will view me messy and sensitive.

For my penmanship is horrid and my tears fall plenty.

I write now.

I use no ink.

I write now, hiding just a little of the pysical me.

I long for the days that my hand touched paper and the liquid salt gave my pages character.

Back when each written word lumped my thought and every tear ripped my heart twice as hard as this tapping.

But I shall write without paper and I'll use ink again, when I am braver.