Ink and Tissue.

by Somethinger

Scribbling has been a favourite since I was a kid. I’ve scribbled on walls, paper, screens, tables, more walls, more papers- and thanks to a set of brilliantly liberal parents, I’ve never felt like I was doing wrong. The workplace allots a box of tissue to each table. I ran out of mine and got a new box after months. Needless to say, the scribbling has returned. I sketch faces and messages and abstract items on tissue paper.

You should try it too some time. Putting down your thoughts in whatever form they take. They needn’t be words. They need to be thoughts. The ones that are in your mind and cannot use words or ink to come out are safest there. The ones that can, find a happy place in whatever surface you give them. They can be silly, or taboo- but don’t judge them. They’re thoughts. Nothing else. What social circle you fit into and what reaction every expression of yours gets is subjective, but don’t think limited to that.

Treat your thoughts like raindrops. They may fall on the tiled ground, into a large puddle, into the sewer or on the shoulder that you want to lean on. But it started as precious as a raindrop, so let that stay. The purity of it. The fact of it.

Someone at work looked at my scribbling on the tissue paper for a long time and said to me, “I can totally imagine you having a tissue paper romance. Where you pass messages on a tissue.” He was alarmingly right. My romance is with tissue. It will start with pure thought and may culminate into something beautiful, something adulterated, or maybe something forgotten. Like the tissue papers that I scribble on and throw away. I don’t need that thought or memory right then, so I can dispose of it.

I can imagine myself pinning up messages on someone’s bag, or slipping in a note in someone’s book (already done that, actually). There’s something secretive about it- the coding, the syntax of a message to be understood by only one person apart from you. Every relation has a new secret. That thought which only the two of you share and eventually grows, diminishes, or lies forgotten.

But the point remains the same. Everything is beautiful if you let it be. Everything is justified if you believe it’s right. Don’t be scared of letting something take its course of action the way it is supposed to. Be it a raindrop, a thought, a relationship or just a mood for scribbling.

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