There is a message in every sentence, all because it means something. It means a great deal to someone or an idea of something abstract or very simple. In a message of great importance or of great emotion, it could change everything in one second. Utensils such as the pencil can be easily erased, as if the matter never happened, to just put it aside or to forget about it entirely. To write upon ink is permanent, the truth is there and there is no turning back upon the existence of the cursed truth. It changes things in a good way or a bad way, end happily or disastrously, or could write the ending describing the conquest of a good deed or a tragedy of a fallen hero.
Mina wished every day that her life was a blank page again, so she would start her life anew, to face her demons straight in the eye, and to tell him how she really felt about him. Jack Atlas, the former King of Turbo Duels: she watched over him and saw that underneath his stubborn and cocky façade that he had his share of tragedy. He had his share of heartache and disappointments, a life full of trials and tribulations with many glories to counter. She wished that she would talk to him about how she felt, and that he would share those feelings, seeing the façade break and for his soul to be free from the dark.
Mina knew that it was all wishful thinking; she didn't have the courage to step up to the plate and defy the order of things, to turn against fate itself and to shout at the top of her lungs what she kept inside for what seemed like an eternity to her. Yes, it was a foolish notion. This was reality, not a silly fairytale. Jack had held affection for Carly Nagisa, the curious reporter who had her fate sealed by the Dark Signers, ones who he was determined to destroy. She had seen too much of his suffering to lay her feelings on him, to see him in more pain and conflict, but it seemed that everyone involved had their lives written on pages, with ink that was so permanent that no one would dare try to erase.
She knew that she couldn't tell him, but if she wanted to, she would have to write it in invisible ink, something sealed and inerasable but silent in its own words. Written so he wouldn't know but the truth would be out in the open. Yes, her feelings would be written in invisible ink, words that would have to be decoded in complex patterns so the truth would be realized.