Sometimes I wonder if my real self hides in my handwriting.
I live in lines of ink; nowhere else seems real.
Perhaps I breathe only when words spill across the page.
The page knows me better than anyone else.
My true self bleeds from the tip of a pen.
Only in ink do I meet the person I truly am.
Perhaps my truest self lives only between pen and paper.
- Ritwik Raj Singh