Like many felt tips in my life, this pen had to be put to rest before its time was due. About once a year I succumb to the allure of the felt tip. Something about the ultimate control its fine point provides, and the calm smoothness of writing with a marker draws me in. Yet inevitably, long before the ink is out, I wear down the soft felt point to a contourless nub, impossible (well, undesirable) to write with at any angle except vertical.
I press too hard. I press too hard and wear out my pens, I walk too hard and wear out my shoes, I work too hard and wear out myself. One solution would be to lay off on my pen; trust that it will write with only a light touch on my part.
It’s a lesson I could probably take to heart. Life goes more easily when my grip around it is just a little looser.
