In today’s day and age, I feel as though we confuse the meaning of love with fear. We force ourselves to love because we are simply in fear of losing comfort. This comfort is found through a familiar face, a face that once heated our bodies and excited our desires. Unfortunately, that face lost its power, like a pen.

There is nothing more satisfying than using a pen for the first time. Writing becomes effortless. The pen’s full capacity allows for smooth and clear entries, entries long enough to write until our hands grow tired. Even with cramped hands, we still write. We write because we have thoughts to express, emotions to uncover, and stories to tell. We are invested and fully committed to this act.

After using this pen for months, the ink decreases, writing becomes bumpy, and we run out of things to say. This struggle lasts until we finally witness the heartbreaking moment when our dear pen slowly loses all its ink. We scribble around the paper over and over to try to preserve some sort of visible ink, but all that shows is dented lines in the notebook. Nothing is documented. All that is left is past thoughts from old stories because our pen is now incapable of creating new ones.

Unfortunately, this is all we can reminisce with our now old pen. At this point, this pen has no use, unless we want to keep writing invisible words on paper. We cannot refill the pen with ink. We cannot move any further without useless hard work. The only solution to writing more stories is to throw the now old pen out and purchase a new one.

True love consists of passion. Without it, the journey ends. Love consists of thoughts being spoken, emotions being risked, and stories being created. Without it, the journey ends. When the love’s pen begins to dry out and things seem bumpy, things get scary. The assurance of love is there, but the urge for desire and passion is lost. Trying to search for that passion becomes a chore, and pretty soon the love shared loses its precious ink. We become trapped in our love due to fear. From here the options are slim. The fear allows the pair to stay together and continue to write stories with invisible ink, or the pair can throw away their pen in order to begin anew. This decision is more difficult than perceived, but the clearest message is this: You know you have found true love when the pen’s ink never dries.

Besides, why would you want to waste energy on entries that cannot even be seen?