The Act of Preserving.

Sometimes, we try to preserve things, and in the act of preserving, we never actually put it to use. We are preserving something that isn’t even real or isn’t being put it to its full potential.

We leave beautiful notebooks on shelves, and we don’t write in them because we are afraid we may write something we don’t like, and then the notebook won’t be pristine. We won’t be able to do something better with it — the damage is already done.

We don’t speak words to people if we think it might change things; we don’t want to be vulnerable.

In vulnerability, there sometimes comes shame; but on the contrary, there is also beauty. The beauty in writing in ink is that it will always show how you thought it. If you want something gone, you must cross it out and that mark is always there. Others can see where you re-thought something or tried to change.

Life is written in ink, and I would like to say, “so write wisely.” But I can’t. The best moments in life are not lived on dull days. In living, we will experience being outrageous, interesting, vulnerable, weak, strong, beautiful, ugly, lost, and absolutely terrified.

Instead of trying to cling to perfection, we should embrace the reality. What is the point in preserving something that isn’t even real or something that could be maximized to a fuller potential?

Rebecca Meskill