#silverscripts

ohhh thank you so much for asking!!

She didn't even try to hide her sour expression. Of course he would assume that she was scared. "I'll have you know that I've done this before", she spat before grabbing the rope and pulling herself onto the window sill.

To get inked means to get marked—not by the literal darkness residing in dainty jars into which fountain pens are being dipped, but by the words that are spilled with utmost candor on the writer's sheets. It is letting your eyes scan a piece of poetry or prose and realizing that it is something that is not supposed to be deemed an abandoned page, but rather, a memento that you carry with you anywhere for it has powerfully struck a chord within you. It is burning holes into the rough, grainy surface bearing the writer's sentiments not because you loathe them with a blazing passion but because you cannot fathom just how someone so remote and unfamiliar could be able to narrate your stories with an enlightening spark obtained from just a few pen strokes and a whole lot of empathy. It is feeling both petrified and awed at the same time for you seemed to have stumbled upon a soul that has managed to make your heart brave through a storm of emotions despite the fact that she is as far and unknown as the most mysterious star in the night skies. It is sitting back for a fleeting moment to ward off unfounded worries and find refuge in the company of books, coffee, music, and all the other small joys that you had long since forgotten because you were too preoccupied falling into the chaos and euphoria of life. It is letting your guard down and voiding yourself of all pretenses, to come in terms with the truth and reveal what you have been keeping clandestine for the longest time: you, in all their flawed and unfathomably beautiful glory.

To get inked by the stars means to get marked by a desire to keep going—to allow courage to trace all your scars, ignite the spark of a love that has gone cold, trade the sorrows of yesterday for the beautiful promises of tomorrow, and to be willing enough to rise and spend another day in either the sunshine or the rain. It is letting a smile tug at the corners of your lips before falling into momentary slumber at night because at last, even amidst having occasional encounters with misery, you are now learning to see more of what life has to give rather than what it does not have—that happiness, despite its seemingly profound nature, can actually be defined by a mere cup of warm coffee alone rather than the whole world in all its entirety.