Find the girl with fingers smudged and smeared with ink that will travel to your hands as you lock your fingers with hers. The girl who has a single callouse somewhere at a joint of her middle finger that came from the love affair of her fingers and a pen.
Date a girl who writes; tell her your definition of love. She is fascinated with thoughts and she is waiting for your stories. Give her the gift of your words, prose, poetry, or your daily shenanigans; you’ll see her suddenly biting her lip, realizing how she got carried away with her own set of verbal innuendos going along the line between fiction and reality.
Date a girl who writes, because in the process of creating and perfecting another world, she carefully leads it as her own reality. She’ll be your falling star, your birthday candle, and your 11:11. She’ll be your adviser, your princess, your healer, your fire-bird, your best friend.
Date a girl who shares herself with more than two worlds. She’s often locked in her room listening to the voices in her head, but despite that, she’s game with adventures, too. In fact, she loves them. And she sees the world and all its inhabitants with a set of keen eyes. She’s used to walking in a character’s shoe more often than not; unnoticed, ignored, but blessed with great empathy of people around her.
She’s the girl who has more scripts and texts than clothes, or maybe a set of vintage notebooks and multi-colored sign pens are what’s in her wardrobe. Her laptop is filled with tabs and bookmarks about Joan of Arc or Grammar Girl or afternoon classics playing from Spotify with the music tuned up. It may seem like nothing, but it’s what detaches her from reality while she chooses the perfect words to describe pain, comfort, and love.
Catch a glimpse of her working on her desk at home. You’ll see a simple girl dressed in a loose shirt and sweatpants with her hair up in a messy bun. She’d reach for a cup of hot coffee or jasmine green tea that already went cold while she was lost in a train of thoughts, a school of ideas, or the idea of Moleskine mountains and empty fountain pens.
If you see her notebook filled of thoughts, of phrases, of sentences, of quotes, of words that hold all simplicity and depths and gibberish, in an illegible string coming from all directions, you’ll know her thoughts go faster than what her hands can muster. Writing creates a new world for her. Don’t fret, because it’s what makes her, her. She showers herself with inspiration from it and would daydream about how her story would end and what she should write next at the same time. And amidst the clutter that belongs to this protagonist are trapped words and worlds of Eerie Indiana, Atlantis, or the Middle Earth.
A girl who writes will understand reality more than anyone can. She takes the lemons of life with a shallow bowl of tears, but filled with courage and astonishment for the death of Ned Stark, or the disappearance of Amelia Earheart.
She’ll dream up not only worlds, but universes for you. You’ll be left in catharsis of her verbose –an ocean, a current, a wave–at kilometric words per second. She’ll send more colors than ROYGBIV each time she speaks, but she’ll never fail to listen.
Because a girl who writes know characters should be able to express themselves.
A girl who writes understand what’s between the lines of your conversations, know the syntax behind those words and overthink what, how, and why this character is giving a strange definition of life and love. But she’ll be grateful because she’ll end up having you as a character of her novel.
She’d understand your flaws, because every imperfection is what makes a character unique. A girl who writes understands the plot; and she knows that endings do not always finish like children’s fairytales of princes, glass shoes, and ringing bells. But it will make her stronger, because a girl who writes understands the struggle of human nature. She will not leave you the first moment things go the opposite track because she will rather think of it as a rising action, and a climax with no falling.