It never really clicked to me how personal a keyboard is.
The way you push these buttons, the way you move your fingers, how much your fingers travel, how hard you push, where you find the apostrophes and where you hunt for the ellipsis to pause your sentence and your mind. Where you drop a semi-colon from while effortlessly knowing where to look for the currency you need to print on your screen five words from now.
I can never journal my day if it’s not my keyboard. The one I am familiar with. I can’t even do it on my phone with its touchpad… it has to be tactile, it has to be mine.
I need to know where to rest the palm of my hands when my mind pauses. For that gentle depression of the hand in this physical space to feel familiar.
I need to be able to travel places in my prose as quickly as I do in my mind. I want a ‘tool’ — something I can wield. Not something that feels like a coarse brick.
It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to feel right. And anything can feel right to you.