Words, words, words

Words, words, words. There’s so many of them all the time, in our heads, in our phones, on TV, in front of us, ahead of us. Where does it end and where does it begin? There are words of truth, of deceit, of love and of hate, and anything in between, but is it ever enough? Why do we always crave more?

Why does that silent pause feel ever so painful, like an emission of death, while under the right circumstances that same silence, a comfortable type, feels like an all conquering symbol of unity. And when the right words are spoken, they have the power to bring us alive, more alive than on any ordinary day. We perceive that when we stop talking to someone, that to be a symbol of death of that particular connection, and when we talk to someone we shouldn’t, we are treated as if we’re committing a crime.

And the sheer difference of it all, is simply a presence or absence of words. Sometimes meaningless, sometimes not. Sometimes vague, confusing, misunderstood, often misunderstood, and sometimes, rarely, they can be heavy, charged, challenging and difficult to say. Those we remember the most. Those are the ones that have the power to alter us, sometimes for days, months, or forever. That is the power of words.

That is why, sometimes, sometimes it’s safer to choose the absence, a complete abstinence of words of any kind, if we’re afraid of that change and the messes it cause in our heads.

And other times, it can be so soothing, so magnificent and full of pleasure, to zero in on someone, anyone, other than yourself. When you get stuck, alone, with your own inner voice, stumbling time and time again on the same page you’ve spent your whole life reading. The page that every book has, full of ugly, distasteful, incessant kind of words you know all too well. The kind you want to cut off, shut up, but you really truly can’t, because like any vital microorganisms, they live inside us, waiting for any given chance to get loud.