To me, words are a thing of beauty. Wrapped within words are layers of meaning and subtext. Sometimes a whole world is held within a word. Words are building blocks upon which our understanding of the universe is built.
I have covered my body in words. Words that hold meaning. Words of hope. Graceful scrawls etched into skin. My body become the chapter titles of my life.
Words are a tool of communication. They are not communication unto themselves, but rather a tool, just one of many ways in which we can communicate with the world. Words are a way give life to our internal worlds, allowing others to glimpse within.
Words are also murky, challenging. One word can have so many meanings it can become challenging to truly convey ourselves to others. I often use too many words, saying the same idea over and over in slightly different ways trying to ensure that I am understood.
For me, words are a paradox. I think in words. Words describe the world around me. Words describe my being. I consume words with voracity, always reading, always trying to find more words. Words flow out of me onto the screen. Words are all around me and inside of me.
Yet, when the world becomes overwhelming, my words begin to fail me. The words forming within my mind never reaching my lips. My mouth refuses to co-operate, remaining stubbornly unmoving. The words others speak begin to lose their meanings, becoming instead a stream of sound. My world, built upon words, seems to crumble around me. I know what I want to convey, yet I no longer have the ability to share this with those who care about me and are trying to help.
My words come back to me as my system eases from meltdown. My truth once more able to be shared. Yet, I am left to wonder how something so essential to my very being could abandon me in my times of need.