The Power of Written Words by Mariia Kukshyna

Writing is the best form of self-expression known to a man.

It is a print of our whole being condensed into a digestible format. It is a mirror of our souls. A reflection of something even deeper than a soul, something hidden—the core of every human. Because writing exposes us to ourselves.

And I carry a deep grudge on myself for never writing enough. You see, dear reader, I am dead. And even when I lived, I did everything but write. I drank, I ate, I cried, I prayed, I danced and read and loved and more. But never wrote. The stories were haunting me, begging to be brought to life. The characters were born in my mind, they grew there and had lives of their own, pleading me to spare some time to write about them. But I always had other things to do, other preoccupations to worry about.

And now I am not here any more to do it. I cannot smell the fragrance of the fresh ink. I cannot hear the pages turning. I cannot watch the words get a new meaning as I spill them onto a blank sheet of paper. I cannot feel my hand cramping after the hours of restless writing. I no longer can enjoy any of that. And so, in my own twisted way, I too have become a mere character, hoping to find an author brave enough to resurrect me through the power of written words.