There is this bucket list thing of mine. I’ve come to a touching distance of fulfilling it, but stop short every time. I have done it in bits but haven’t found the courage or the acceptance of it — it’s to get a tattoo.

I know what it’s going to be of, the font, the placement, everything. It will be on my left arm, just under the elbow, facing me, in the font of Casey Neistat’s handwriting, and it will read “Write”.

Write

A text on my left arm that reads “write”. It’s a little joke, but also a North Star for me. I feel this is the only thing that will take me out of whatever rut I am in, personally or professionally.

I have never written seriously, but I am also a paid writer. It’s silly but for some reason, I consider my job less of a writer and more of a thinker, an ideator. I hardly get to write stuff — its mostly just coming up with ideas, brainstorming and then presenting it.

For a 30-second script, there is not much to write anyway.

But the writing that symbolises this tattoo is that of writing long form. I genuinely believe the long form is how I think. I grew up reading magazines and newspapers and reading articles and opinion pieces is what I devoured then. Poetry, songs, rap, ads, everything came later on. Long-form writing is what made me fall in love with words.

And so, that is what I wish for myself – to write. Through happy days and sad, through pain and loss, through wins and triumphs, through cities, through countries, through years. A way to look back at myself, and peek into my thoughts. To not care about the ones reading it because all this is for me, after some years.

Marshal McLuhan said, “The medium is the message”. I find it very true for my words — Because I maintained the habit of writing in a diary at night, I am the only one who reads it later on. So I write everything as a conversation, in first person, not knowing that someday, someone will read my stuff and they won’t have any context. Or maybe it will be me, forgetting the context, what happened in the background.

I am writing this, without editing. Growing up, the text I read felt precise, professional and to the point. Its because there were layers of editing and supervision. But the articles on the internet today read a lot like first drafts because the internet rewards this kind of language. Raw, unprocessed, first thoughts like. Which is exactly like writing in a diary.

But no matter what, it’s time to put the words down. To pour the emotions out. To let the vulnerabilities flow. To keep the gates open. It’s time to write.