Pen And Paper Is A Delightful Friend

I’ve never met a person that listens. In a conversation, I’m almost always the receiving end. I enjoy it quite a bit, especially with strangers in their old age (those folks are often ignored by their children, and they rarely have anyone to talk with). But sometimes, you know, I want to talk too.

I used to try to find a person that would listen to me. When meeting new people, I’d say, “Maybe it’s him; maybe it’s her.” Having found that person would be delightful, but I couldn’t. I just… couldn’t. In a conversation, everyone’s busy inside their head, and they “listen” so they could talk. When I say a thing, I’m often interrupted with, “You should do this,” or, “Maybe you can try that,” or, “Wow that’s sad… but let me tell you a worse thing that happened to me.” Goddamit, all I wanted was talk!

This is why I find pen and paper to be such a delightful friend. If I have something to say—no matter how long, stupid, or blasphemous—I can pour everything. A beautiful story, a sinful confession, a nonsense rant, it doesn’t matter; the paper doesn’t judge, the pen doesn’t criticize. They’re the listening ear I’ve been looking for my entire life.