You should be whatever you want. But let me ask you: Do you feel afraid?
"No."
Then trust how you feel.
I took in some air, and held it for a few minutes, staring down at the pad of paper. I exhaled the air almost as an afterthought.
"This is weird," I said.
It is whatever you want it to be. It could be weird. Or it could be wildly wonderful.
Half the page was now full. My hand also moved down to the next line on its own, prompted by the gentle electrical stimulation of my arm muscles.
A weird, otherworldly sensation, for sure.
"So you are someone close to me," I said, and suddenly felt damn foolish for talking to my hand and a piece of paper. "But that doesn't tell me who you are."
There was a pause, and I had a strong sense that whoever I was talking to was considering how much to tell me.
For now, let's just say I am a friend. A very close friend.
"Most of my friends don't speak to me through a pen and paper," I said. "They use email or text messaging."
Words are words, are they not? Think of this as spiritual instant messaging. A SIM.
Despite myself, I laughed. Now I was certain I was going crazy.
I looked down at the printed words. The fresher ones were still wet and gleaming blue under the overhead light. The printing was not my own. It was big and flowing. My own handwriting style tended to be tight and slanted.