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It’s fun to write with pens.

They dance across a page,

and I feel like I’m dancing with them.

But I used to be scared

to write in pen

because I never liked my first drafts.

Pen feels permanent,

and I don’t like my mistakes cemented

in ink.

I would write so precisely with pens,

thinking slowly about my words,

instead of letting ideas rush out of me.

Pen was for perfection.

I cried the first time I made a mistake

with pen

that I knew I’d see again and again – 

an underline in my favorite book

that swiveled onto a word,

instead of staying straight.

Now I love pens for their finality.

Because mistakes are memories,

and I am made of mistakes

(even those that aren’t mistakes in the way I think).

My annotations are no longer perfect,

and the pen can do its job

of capturing a moment raw,

with no chance of changing for perfection.

I don’t like “perfect.” 

Every time I smear a letter that

hasn’t fully dried,

I choose to see a shooting star.

And every time I cross out a word

to try again, leaving a reminder

of my mistakes – my humanness – 

I can smile.

Because pen is more real,

more me.

Katie is a double major in Journalism and Astrophysics at Michigan State. She is an avid reader and loves writing, especially poetry. When she isn't writing or learning about space, she loves to listen to music and scrapbook. To see some of her older and recent works, visit her blog: katietswritingcorner.wordpress.com
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