If I could write well, I would write for a better world. Love, hope, and inspiration would flow from my fingertips and emerge from my mind, as their soft edges would provide no sting.
If I could write well, I would write the truth. The things people are afraid to say, carved into paper, begging to be read, understood, and felt.
If I could write well, I would aspire to feel more deeply. Emotions would build me up in stanzas.
If I could write well, I would become more complex. I would wear my glasses more often, and order coffee with fancy words, like “macchiato” and “espresso.” I would tuck my hair behind my ear and begin to use the word plethora somewhere other than the SAT.
If I could write well, I would write about the places I want to travel, the people I want to meet, and the life I aspire so deeply to live.
If I could write well, I would write my closest friend a novel. One that would never end. I would make her laugh with the turn of every page and provide her with a spine that would never crack. I would give her my heart in sentence form.
If I could write well, I would tell my family how much I love them. With words eloquently leaping off the page, I would blanket them in meaning, fill them with pride, and carry them through life.
If I could write well, I would never stop.
