sometimes i think words are clumsy things, incapable of the true
meaning i want to express. sometimes i imagine i have the ability to
think at people, to send them messages of raw meaning. i wouldn't have
to hassle with making my messages into words. it's not that i'm lazy.
i love to write. i love to string words into sentences, to wordcraft,
if you will. but in real life, when it's time for a word or a phrase
to move a conversation on, i never feel like i get it right. i'm ok
with silence. most people are not. the more i think about it, though, the more i think expressing
ourselves is just a dozen compromises of meaning to chunk it into the
words that are available in our vocabulary. we don't think about it.
we're used to it. we manage. and maybe that's a good thing. maybe my
raw streams of meaning i'd project to people wouldn't make much sense.
maybe i need the process of constructing sentences, finding words, to
validate my meaning, to craft a statement and temper the raw meaning. yes, it's probably a good thing my thoughts must become words and pass
my tongue before they reach others. it gives me time, at least, to
maybe tap the breaks on the rant that's about to spill into their
minds like liquid hellfire, or the lustful thoughts that touch me when
i see a particularly well fitting pair of jeans, or the genuine
disinterest when someone is droning on and on about things i care
nothing about. ghost
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