... which is deeply ironic, given my first choice of font in every user interface is always Sans-serif. 

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If you know me well, you will know that every geographical tag I have ever put out might as well have been a lie – I live only in my head. During these time of (mostly) solitude, I realized there are different kinds of words/thoughts in my head. While all of them sound like inner voices – exactly the kind that you expect to hear in your head when reading – some are words used to translate emotions, and some emotions are triggered by words. And while it doesn’t (and probably shouldn’t) feel like much difference to most, it feels monumental to me.

So I have been trying to look into myself deeper to see how I could differentiate a emotion-based thought or a thought-based emotion, and I haven’t been able to – until today, when I realize: 

The words from my core are always in italic Serif . 

Whereas the words of my mind (“second-handed thoughts” if you will) are always in neat blocks, and usually in Arial (Narrow, if we’re being specific about it), and sometimes in bold, but never italic. 

And I don’t know how to explain this but the words that come after mine are always surface - floating, flickering and just... temporary. They come and go and are never impressionable. Whereas the words from my core are creamy almost - they linger and persist and demand to be felt.

The words and thoughts that come from the depths of my being are in italic. 

They are less a whisper than an unstifled yawn: the presence is vague and dismissible but at the same time loud and echo-y but unmistakably there; and with acknowledgement the thought will send a ripple through the body with words that demands to be felt by my entire being on a visceral level. 

and i need to breathe. 

It will take a minute for me to process the feeling that was brought on by a thought that doesn't seem to be mine. And they are never always coherent. sometimes its like i receive those thoughts from a random airdrop by mistake. but I relish in the wonderful feeling anyway. 

is this why most poems and classical writing are in italic? 

And when i do allow the words to come to fruition, i am rewarded with a tiny dose of (the closest I can describe as) euphoria. 

is this how it feels like to feel words intently and intensely? 

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