In the end, my words mean nothing, and because they are all I have and all I can do, I am nothing.  I am nothing and I am not enough.  Where do I go now?  I tried.


Reason #60

You make me want to write stories about you, every thought that fills my mind and then flows through my fingertips is you.  I could write about you forever, and I probably will, you know.  I wish I had the right things to say, to order my thoughts in such a way that you could understand, but I have a feeling that even though I don’t, you know my mind in a way that nobody else ever could or can, and somehow you know what I’m trying to say in all of this nonsense entirely, not jut now, but always.  That’s so much a part of what makes you special, you just know me.  And the parts that you don’t yet?  They’ll come, in my heart of hearts I know they will.  There’s still so much to learn, of each other, and it’s all just stories isn’t it?  Sentence by sentence, page by page?  It will all come together, somehow.  I’ve never believed in that until now, until you.  I love you.


Reason #39

Because I want to write stories with you, all of them, for the rest of my days.  I want to discover you, discover us, word by word, sentence by beautifully written sentence, page by wondrous page.  I want to write histories and futures as they unfold to fill book upon book with tales of happily ever after because for the first time in all of my days, I believe there is such a thing.

Failing words

What do you do when words are the one thing that you are good at, when they are your best form of expression; they describe who you are, what life means to you, how you feel about others, or not feel about others.

When they are used as your most powerful tool, the biggest, the strongest you have in your very limited arsenal of personal skills.

What do you do and what do you fall back on when those words start to fail, when they are not enough, when they don’t feel as significant as you think they should?

When you feel as if your words are meaningless, not descriptive enough, they don’t tell the stories anymore that you want and need them to?

What do you do, then, when you feel as if you might not be heard anymore?

What is left, then?