drifting apart: the last drop
As the construction crane turns, the sunlight reflects into the room from its windows. It’s a blur of light, sweeping through the narrow room, too quick to catch. Almost enough to drive you insane in a wild search to find where the sunlight is coming from, especially when that room never receives any.
I think it’s time for me to come clean. I have been struggling to enjoy fountain pens. It has been a tough, heartbreaking year and it feels silly to even think back on how hopeful it started. This blog had also started like that, some years ago now, and I had just wanted a place where I can share the love I have for any type of writing instruments. A little chatty, fun time for me to spend playing around with ink, pens, paper... It turns out that some other people were also happy to read my ramblings. I met great people. I read these great people’s writings. Growing up when blogs were popular made me love them quite a bit, personality of each blog is quite unique and I read ferociously when I stumble upon a new one. No wonder I tried to write one when I was 12, no wonder when I wanted to whisper how much I love pens into the void, I came back.
Over time, I put needless pressure on myself to keep churning out reviews. Instead of sharing what I love, I started sharing what I have. I think that started to eat through my love of writing this blog. That went on to affect how I viewed my pens, where if I picked up one, it would turn on my reviewer brain and it would go downhill from there.
This chaos in my hobby life was just multiplied by the chaos in my school life. Long story short, it didn’t go as expected, it didn’t even go remotely well. I did beat myself up for that too. Over the summer, I tried to have a bit of a break, I didn’t even look at the blog’s Instagram. Just ignored everything completely.
Unfortunately for everyone, inks dried. Pens got stained. Some of my favourite pens got stained too. It took a good amount of elbow grease to clean pens. It broke my heart a little bit further.
In the end, I managed to clean all. I inked only a couple. Quite basic inks too: one green, one blue and one red. I put them in my first sewing project, a three pen pouch I had hand-sewn myself (I did pick up a couple new hobbies on the way hehe). I found myself reaching for them more and more.
I even finished an ink! Completely!
I inked up the last drops of Diamine Blue Black in my Sailor Realo. It’s a basic writing experience, dark ink with a fine nib. But there’s something about it. I looked for different writing experiences, different feels, different inks... There’s a different sort of magic in coming back to one of the first bottles you owned, one of the first pens you splurged on. It feels like coming home.
It’s like an old pair of shoes, worn just right in all the right places. Creased and folded and moulded for you. Comfortable and comforting. I started journaling again. I started using my pens more. I started daydreaming about pens too, certain inks or pens I missed. Certain writing experiences that fit certain tasks better.
Well, I started using my pens. I started loving them again, even when a stain catches my eye and makes me a little sad. I don’t know what will be the fate of this blog right now. My life’s standing on the edge, things are changing and I don’t know where I’m going. I know for a certain that I want to keep writing about pens. There’s a saying in Turkish that says water finds its way -su yolunu bulur. No matter how tough the rock seems, it’ll figure out a place to go, even if it needs to carve it. I have to believe that for now.
Thank you for reading this far, it has been a rambly post that has been on my mind for a while. I stumbled upon a video essay on “real” things instead of digitalising everything, and I think the fountain pen people would also appreciate that. I find myself thinking about it quite a bit since I watched it for the first time… That’s the video in the link if you want to watch it as well. Oh, also the pictures are the ones I took that I keep looking back to, because they are moments where it felt so much better to be in a physical world rather than a digital one.