Because Words Behave Better on Paper

There’s a reason I write.
Because words behave better on paper.

When I speak, it’s like my internal software starts buffering — too many tabs open, too many metaphors trying to load at once. My poor mouth just can’t keep up. She’s doing her best, bless her, but the words? They’re busy running marathons inside my head.

Sometimes I imagine a tiny sign posted up there:
“Perfect place to run away. But beware — you might get lost.”

When I write, though, it’s peaceful in here.
The tabs close. The code runs smoothly. My internal grammar maestro finally stops sweating and starts conducting.

I can pause. Breathe. Add a comma where real life never lets me.

When I write, I get second chances — something the spoken world rarely offers.
Backspace is my best therapist.

I often joke that my thoughts have their own carnival — a samba of idioms dancing between Portuguese, English, Danish, and Spanish. Sometimes I forget the lyrics entirely.

I’ll start a sentence and, midair, it collapses.
Take the… uh… look at the… wait… I bought this… uhn…
Meanwhile, my husband just smiles — he’s seen the system crash before.

Once, I was sharing a pillow with my brother and meant to say, “Push the pillow up.”
Instead, I said, “Push the soap up.”
He looked at me. I looked at him. We both questioned reality.

Another time I wanted to say limousine and somehow said mousiline.
There’s no fixing that one.

My brain thinks faster than my mouth can perform.
Writing is where they finally meet halfway — where thought and speech sign a peace treaty.

Writing gives me control and freedom at once.
I can play with words like building blocks, rearranging until they sound like what I actually mean. My inner perfectionist gets to breathe. My inner child gets to play.

And when I write, I speak inside my head — slowly, rhythmically, with commas as resting points. I read what I feel before I say it. Maybe that’s why the page never interrupts me mid-sentence.

When people interrupt me in real life, I crash.
Do you know that old Windows error sound?
Puuummmm. That’s me rebooting.
Usually, I just laugh. It’s my emergency recovery mode.

Sometimes I wonder if speaking is my beta version — full of glitches, updates pending.
Writing, though… writing is the upgrade.

Because on paper, my words don’t forget what they came here to say.
They line up, hold hands, and behave — almost.

And that’s enough for me.

✨ Maybe one day I’ll learn to speak as gracefully as I write.
Until then — thank goodness paper doesn’t interrupt me mid-sentence.