To write with the pen is to write with a sense of finality. You need a sense of conviction to raise the pen, as permanent as spoken word. Like the pen, there is no erasing what is done. You may be able to strike out your mistakes, but those scribbled lines are scars to cover the past. No matter what you do, the lines and the mistakes that they conceal will always remain.
One of the hardest lessons to learn in life is what to do with those redactions. They may haunt you every time you’re reminded of the scars that they left behind. It’s ugly, and it hurts in a way that not much else can. It’s hard, especially when the wound is so fresh that you can only wait for the pain to die. Sometimes, it never does.
I find that my biggest struggle is those ugly lines. I have yet to embrace that which I often impart unto others: Mistakes are a learning opportunity. I know that I, among others, am cursed with the memory of those stray lines and misshapen images. So many of us are afflicted by a sense of self-cruelty that may, in some cases, bleed onto others. These mistakes can be fashioned into something beautiful, even if they are in pen. The challenge lies in being able to allow them to exist, and finding the peace within yourself to yield to their potential.
This is what I understand, but have yet to learn.