Ink-blue finger tips

I wanted to write something.
You know those nights when you're just itching to write? 
I'm not sure if you know...
You crave to hear the intensely fast clatter of the keypad as you move your fingers at lightening fast speed or the squeaky high frequency scribble on a sparkling white piece of ruled paper.

Writing brings immeasurable happiness to me,

So I thought I'll start writing and see where it takes me,
Because words, they take you traveling. You start at one pole and end at another, and the story in the middle is what manifests on its own.You think you're doing it, but you're really not. One word leads to another and it forms a sentence. You don't even realize it but it turns into something magical.That's the thing about wordplay, it's insanely mysterious and double-insanely powerful. I don't usually know where I'm going to end up until I get to the end. Sometimes its unstructured (like I usually rattle away), and sometimes it has a definite structure. 

Today I use the keyboard to type words, 

but writing with a blue fountain pen with ink dripping all over my fingers was close to heaven.

The smell of ink is divine. 

" If dawn and dusk had a scent then the smell of ink is the smell of dawn and dusk with a white lily dipped in it."

The shabby ink blue finger tips that lasts for days is a happy memory of a peaceful hour gone dreaming, rummaging and scribbling. 

Writing is a life within a life. Blue words on white crisp paper take you into a new world where you need nothing but your words. They become people, emotions and sometimes entire lives. These words have the capability to make us feel things deeper than they are, more vivid than they seem and more beautiful than it is. Two words can make you want to rip somebody's heart apart and one word can make a life-long friend. Sometimes half a word is enough to fall in love. Some power isn't it?

And words, they make you feel so vulnerable and vulnerable is so incredibly scary but so beautiful! Where you let it all out and place it messily on a piece of paper:
This is me, all of me, nothing more, nothing less. Nobody else could bring out that kind of unconditional vulnerability.

But these words, little buggers made of alphabets, they've got double standards too,
They make you feel vulnerable yet extremely powerful. They help you communicate and sometimes they help you stay away from communication. They help you love and hate, they help you imagine and ideate. 
Little love letters, novels, a thesis on archeology. 
Emotions, history and philosophy. 
They're all but words. 
Nothing more nothing less.

After all,
It all starts with ink blue fingertips and a whole lot of happiness.