And the pen came first

In my religious heritage, it is said that God created the pen as the first of creations and told it to “write.” This phrase may have greatly influenced my childhood, as the pen holds a significant aura despite being available everywhere. However, in our schools, you cannot use the pen until you reach the age of 10. At that point, you leave the pencil behind and are allowed to use the pen.

It is the tool that records every simple movement you make, and you cannot easily erase your mistakes as you do with a pencil.

This majestic presence of the pen, despite its simplicity, may have instilled in me, and my generation, a fear of making mistakes. This is the life of adults: everything is calculated precisely.

Strangely, I find that when I become furious, I search for the pen and scribble forcefully on the paper, feeling something emerge through the scribbling.

Over time, as I grew to love myself more, I began to see this process as a feature I cherish: the pen records every small detail I felt at the moment of drawing, creating an accurate record of my emotions, how they formed, and where they go, and this randomness cannot be repeated.

Allowing myself to scribble with the pen that we should not err with is a creative feeling filled with comfort and freedom.

Additionally, the pen merges with me in a very spontaneous way, creating a chaotic mess led by emotion, resulting in a canvas that records my depths as they are.

I am astonished every time I lift my hand from the pen, amazed at what is inside me and how I perceive myself and the world.

As for the blue ballpoint pen, it is the dearest to my heart and the most mysterious and astonishing to me. This magical color embodies the hue of the material of creation and nothingness in my consciousness, and it is no coincidence that it is exactly this shade of magical blue.