The Words

I want to find another way to express myself. I find the written word to be such an inefficient system in which to share thought. I’ve never been able to fully articulate the feelings and thoughts that spark in my brain because they shine so luminously that I could not find words that they deserve. The brighter they are, the shorter they last in my memories and the thought of being unable to convey them to another human being frustrates me.

I love reading but I hate writing because I lack the ability to express myself as well as the authors I read. The more novels I add to my bookshelf the more desirous I become of the power they have over me. It amazes me that words, these collections of scrawled ink and graphite, sewn together with enough care, can produce such wonder in me. I try so hard to express the abstract thoughts I have with these shapes but it seems futile. There is something mathematical in the things I write and I dread being left with a remainder that I can’t pass on.

It’s as though I’m writing in binary; the more complex the idea I’m trying to express, the larger the string of ones and zeroes must become until the effort outweighs the value of the product. I want to just put my fingers on the page and rub the letters until they run into subtle shades no one else has seen. I want to express those ideas I’ve had to compromise for so long because the words I’ve been looking for have been hiding in the spaces between each letter.

I wish I could find a way to transport just one raw thought to someone else without losing everything that makes it so beautiful to me. I want to open my mind and allow someone to experience, if but for a moment, myself without borders or boundaries. I want to be known and I want others to know me but I’m stuck behind these words that separate us like fences.