I just want it to be something you made.
I don't care if it's 200 words and the grammar is trash, I don't care if it's 120,000 words and you paid a professional editor to help you polish it. I don't care if it's stick figures or finger paint or 500$ gold leaf or crooked stitches or perfectly aligned tiles and etching work that's so detailed you needed a magnifying glass and 60 hours.
I just want it to be something you made.
Something that came from your head or your heart or your loins or all three!
I want to drive my hands into it and feel the subtle inklings of your soul between the marks of your effort.
I want your intent to bulldoze me flat as a crepe on the sidewalk, where the concept of subtle has been crushed out of my bones.
I want to know that you were driven mad by your own need, or desperate to give shape to inspiration from some other person, place, or thing.
I want to see the coarse edges of your continuing journey toward mastery, I want to appreciate the smooth turn of thousands of hours of practice.
I want to see the soft shiver of that weakness in your fingers that reflects in your work and marks it ypurs every time, I want that intentionally etched flaw that you keep because you like how it feels.
I want to smell the blood and tears of everything that came before wasn't quite right. Wasn't quite there yet and you knew how close you were and clawed your way forward another step even when you weren't sure you wanted to, because you were certain you couldn't stop yet.
I want to know that you enjoyed it. That there was naught else to drive you but the simple pleasure of doing what you did to while away an afternoon because that was what you wanted to do.
I want to know that you stepped away, and came back, and broke it on the ground and fixed it or cried and buried it because there was nothing there you could fix.
I want to know only that you did what you wanted
How you wanted to
When you needed to
For yourself, or for someone worth the same.
That you learned something, or gained something, or realized something, or became stronger in some way.
That even if you never set out to master it, you still enjoyed it, still have at least one moment that you will carry with to a day where your fingers shake a little too much, but the young eyes next to you can feel the depth of your efforts all the same.
I just want it to come from you.














