“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”
Jack Kerouac
The Dharma Bums
A therapist once asked her client, "What would be the perfect words to hear that would make you feel whole?" Without any hesitation, the client replied, "It wouldn't matter as I would not believe them anyway." This is a sad reflection of low self-esteem, but it does raise the question of perfect words.
I love words, but not like in historical novels where one truth is buried in numerous paragraphs. I receive pleasure in linking words together, but not in a rhythmic poetic way. I kind of like to just string them along, maybe a little lofty like sheets flapping on a clothesline drying in the breeze. I like words so much that my favorite thing to do when I was younger was diagram sentences. Yes, I know, but that is the truth.
Although I am proficient at speaking in front of people expressing my passions, I probably prefer to put pen to paper where I can actually see my words. When I write a word down, it comes to life and asks me, "Is this what you mean?"
Words written by others, gathered together in books are some of my best friends. They are always available, unchanging, and supportive. The written word, as in a personal letter, is a form of comfort and connection. Chosen words, tend to have more of an honest reflection that we are more apt to behold.
Words that have been given voice, cannot always be retracted. One cannot suck them back in nor apologize adequately. The written word can be erased, retracted or deleted. It can be better defined by etchings or sketches to help the mind embrace the original intent.
Words, lovely words. How empty my life would be without them.
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