Why I Never Left My Mark on Anything
Why I Never Left My Mark on Anything
Some of us are afraid of permanence. I know I was.
Back when I used to read hard copies of books, I never wrote in them, never highlighted any section, didn’t dog-ear a single page, and certainly never cracked the spine. I wanted to keep each book pristine. New. Untouched. As if it had never been read at all.
But here’s the strange part—these books had left their mark on me. I had savored them, devoured them, and they had changed me. Yet I never allowed myself to change them. I never left my mark.
This wasn’t just about books. It’s how I treated most of my “things.” My clothes, my phone, even my home. I wanted to keep them in their original state, untouched by me. As if me using them would somehow diminish their value or make them dirty.
The Fear Beneath the Surface
It’s easy to mistake this for a desire for neatness or order. But it wasn’t that. It was fear.
- Fear of making a mistake.
- Fear of damaging something beyond repair.
- Fear of leaving a mark I couldn’t undo.
Because permanence means responsibility. Permanence means being seen. And if I left my mark on something—if I underlined that sentence in a book or scuffed the floor in my home—it would mean admitting I had been there. That I had taken up space. That I had existed in that moment, in that place, and claimed it as mine.
It was easier to move through life like a ghost. Consuming but not altering. Experiencing but not claiming. Letting things touch me without touching them back.
Why We Resist Permanence
Avoiding permanence is often about control. If nothing is changed, nothing can be ruined. If you never leave a mark, you can’t regret it later. But that’s not living—it’s preserving. And life isn’t meant to be preserved; it’s meant to be lived.
Think about it:
- Have you ever hesitated to start a project because you didn’t want to “mess it up”?
- Have you kept your feelings to yourself because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing?
- Have you avoided committing to something because you feared it wouldn’t last?
That’s the fear of permanence at work.
The Freedom of Leaving a Mark
What if leaving a mark wasn’t a threat—but a gift?
To write in the margins of a book is to say, I was here. To wear down the floorboards of your house is to say, I lived here. To speak your mind, even if it’s messy and imperfect, is to say, I mattered here.
Permanence is proof of life. Proof of presence. Proof that you didn’t just pass through—you engaged.
What if the things we fear marking are exactly the places where we are meant to leave our imprint? What if the “damage” is the evidence of life well-lived?
How to Start Leaving Your Mark
- Write in the Book – Underline the passage that hits you in the gut. Jot down your thoughts in the margins. Books are meant to be experienced, not preserved.
- Wear Out Your Favorite Clothes – Stop saving them for a “special occasion.” Make today the special occasion.
- Speak Your Truth – Even if your voice shakes, even if you’re unsure how it will land. Let people know you were here.
- Make a Mess – Creativity thrives in chaos. Stop waiting for the perfect conditions—start now, even if it’s imperfect.
Life Isn’t Meant to Be Pristine
Leaving a mark means you were brave enough to show up. Brave enough to risk being seen. Brave enough to create—even if it isn’t perfect.
So what if you scuff the floor? So what if you spill the paint? So what if you write in the book and change your mind later?
That’s life. That’s what it means to engage fully
Stop trying to preserve life. Start living it.
Prerna Wadhwa
Notes from my diary