musings of a little worried font

by ty

worries of a font; absurd.

Introductions are difficult but im a little font, one of the simple fonts you’d find in a document; a boring one you’d occasionally glimpse at before scrolling down without a care; an ugly one who will never be as outstanding as the cutsy ones. I’d be pretty sure if I gave you the default list of fonts you could find you wouldn’t even look at me – oh my simplicity has strengthened my skills of concealing myself into crowds without the use of a leaf or a piece of cloth which people claim is magic – im naturally concealed, it isn’t such a bad thing at times but moving on. Everyone uses fonts, and well don’t be surprised but we have worries too.

one; when will I be attractive enough? I’d sit here for ages in my little confinement of a boxed square and watch my friends like the widely used Arial prancing happily on the plain document, donning their elegance on the bare arms of fibre through the groaning sounds of the old printer. One thing I heard is that people look for attractive fonts that catch people’s attention, hoping people would be happy to read their beautifully written stories. Yet I wondered what people deemed attractive; something true? or would it be something showy? would they weigh sincerity over beauty ever in their long lives? they never saw sincerity as beauty did they, such peasants. But well, ignorance seems to have been something that follows me everywhere I go without any thoughts of leaving since people laugh at me all the time about not knowing how to make people like me and how to present myself, being too naively imagining that people actually weren’t as heartless and ruthless as they really were. Of course I held on to sincerity and well never sufficed to bring myself onto the beautiful white sand, no surprise at all.

two; will I get erased completely someday? slumped on the cold ground of my little box I pondered about the possibilities of my mere future. Being a font I doubt we had futures, we weren’t even supposed to be living, making my ability to write and think a mystery up till now. But that’s beside the point – futures are things humans look towards with determination in their twinkling eyes, using us along the way to fill their resumes or university applications as they please. Yet is there a possibility I’d ever get the limelight? Would there be a day I was actually used as a header for a document – even if it was a mere brochure for a small shop in the corner of the street id be happy enough. Yet slacking off as I have been doing since I came into existence doesn’t seem quite right does it? Space on a computer or a hard drive seems to be decreasing for people as they clump all their essays and write-ups simply with the click of the save button, won’t there be a day when I have to leave and clear space for them? Can I even be deleted, though. I wonder but hey I never wanted to be deleted. Yet im helpless, what can I do besides sitting here sadly hoping that a dear master would perhaps look at me and like my appearance, or perhaps even click on me accidentally and actually find my bit of curves fitting for their important document. That would be enough, at least a 1 on my usage list would be salvation enough. Being forgotten definitely doesn’t ever feel good, don’t you know.

three; why do I have emotions? fonts aren’t living so really, why do I even have emotions to right this rant-essay? You reading this might find it interesting because really which font would write a story to complain about people and their negligence towards her existence? But really, why do I have emotions – emotions are terribly troublesome things. They’re pretty unexpected too, coming to fill you up with happiness and killing you out of a sudden with emptiness or drowning you in sadness; so really what’s the point. Its not like it’ll make me any better as a mere insignificant font would it. At times id rather being able to throw these things into the waste paper basket just as easily as people threw paper away; not to forget to mention that paper is like our dream honestly. So if our dream is that useless and well nothing to peasants then why emotions.

fourth; the idiocy in my writing. For starters, being a font doesn’t really mean writing because though its on the literacy side of things its not really an art because we’re nothing but little building blocks people piece together mindlessly and give meanings to with the blinking of an eye and the twisting of a finger, but we write at times whispering quietly in your deep slumber below the stars hiding quietly in the comfort of the blank cold screen. I was pretty much perceived once again as a weakling in this area as much as I was deemed lousy in the others – mocked at, laughed at, ostracized. writing was like an outlet, an escape route I found in the deep forests of confusion perhaps, something I submerged myself into while the rest spoke of their daily muses with smiles on their faces, occasionally laughing at those they called loners. good pieces don’t come by much sadly; for my idiocy drowns all good perhaps.

being a font isn’t all that hard honestly, isn’t it like being a peasant (you humans)? Being worried about appearances, pondering hard about the judging looks you get; similar isn’t it? Try being a font for a day and realize nothing ever changes.

AN – so story behind this funny post!! so I I was talking to someone and he was like font worry huhuhu so yeah worries of a font!! /it was a typo in case you guys judge him well don’t but yes font worry!!!! Quote of the day ;u;/ so yeah enjoy idk I wrote this once again sitting in class so it really likely is weird and suckt but really I’m sorry huhuhu okay bye bye posting this before going to moping land cries forever called cca HAHAHAHAHHAH idk the feeling isn’t good or right anymore and I just want to slump in a corner and slack my butt off but sigh idk oh well bye bye~

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