Words are one of the most important things in my life. I pride myself on my vocabulary and vernacular. I have the ability to express myself in great detail, and with ease due to this mastery of the English language that I claim I have.
Words are dependable. Words are reliable. Words are ever changing and evolving like a living species. I love words, and they never fail me. Until they do.
My words’ natural enemy. There’s nothing more terrifying than having my words stolen by racing thoughts. The kind of thoughts that make my brain move so quickly that the words fly away like a bird in a tree after you’ve begin throwing rocks at it.
I’m not throwing rocks at birds. (Although, that does seem like something manic Justin would do.)
Hey you stupid birds; gimme back my words!
I feel as though to most, this is something that’s hard to relate with. I mean, it’s not as if everyone has the same passion for words that I do.
So imagine this: Take the one thing that you do to express yourself, the one thing you do over any others. Do you sing? Dance? Write? Yell? Shoplift? Pick your nose? Do the Hokey Pokey? Whatever it is, picture it.
Now, imagine it gone. Yet, even though it’s gone you can still see the distorted fragments of what it used to be.
It’s like the busted speaker playing your favorite song. You can hear that it’s your song, and you know that you love it. Yet, the melody is faint, the bass is hollow, and the crackling has distorted the song until it is nearly unrecognizable. Allowing you to hear it, and realize that you love it, but the sound from the speaker makes you hate it.
I love words, but when my thoughts are racing… it makes me hate them.