Me and My Keyboard

It’s easier to type my thoughts rather than say them in a coherent sentence in front of you.

It’s easier to talk through typing than trying to put my thoughts into a straight sentence while your eyes see through my soul. I feel vulnerable and I know, sometimes, it shows.

It’s easier to hear my own thoughts and know what I’m thinking when I’m not distracted by being nervous in front of you. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself, but sometimes I end up doing just that by worrying about it.

It’s easier to be descriptive when I have time to pause and feel comfortable with thinking through my words rather than trying to have “smart” words come out of my mouth at a constant rate. Who can do that? Apparently, not me.

It’s easier to tell a story when the person anticipating on what’s going to happen next isn’t staring at me all wide-eyed and intrigued (not saying that all my stories are that interesting).

There’s something about me and the keyboard that just clicks.

When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly I can pour out my heart. When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly being honest and blunt is the route I tend to take. When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly being myself isn’t all too scary.

My fingers fly over the letters, words come out easily, and sentences are easily strung together coherently. My thoughts line up instead of acting like a thousand people trying to get out of a burning building all at once. My ideas are clear and right in front of me instead of making it seem like there are gallons of water raining down in order to block my view.

When it’s me and the keyboard, suddenly saying what I want, or need, to say suddenly becomes more natural….and, sometimes, beautiful.

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About MysteriesOfLife

“I’m a simple girl.” “You lied. You aren’t simple at all.” “Maybe I’m not. But if I said that, would you have stayed around to figure me out?”
This entry was posted in 365 Days of Writing Prompts, About Me, Personal Favorites, Stream Consciousness and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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