The Movement of Words

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Sometimes you need space, the absence of sounds and voice, and a forced calm to see things come full picture: no distractions, no people, nothing.

I find it hard to speak out or feel feelings authentically because they sneak up on me from out of nowhere sometimes, and I’m left wondering why they were there. I’ll feel this pressure in my chest, a turning in my gut, and this overwhelming sense of dread that knocks the wind from me. I FEEL but lack the words to express what causes these attacks of pure sadness to cloud over me.

Today I realized I love the written word in any way I can get my hands on it, wrap my soul around it, and devour it. 

It’s why I love music, read books, and scroll through endless quotes with pretty, dark pictures; they speak louder than I know how to. They speak for me because I learned to be quiet. I repost or save up quotes because they speak volumes when I lack the ability to grasp at words. They sing to me the hurt I’ve felt inside for years so I can cry and let the pain out.

When I read, I’ll sit for hours in this world, swimming around in my head while I cry, laugh, and go through a field of emotions, running my fingers through the flowers of written dreams. 

I get lost in music; I find relevance in lyrics, hope in quotes, home between the pages of books, and religion in how the violin moves me to tears.  

I often wondered what was wrong with me because I didn't feel or express myself, or behave, the way others did, but I think that's the part that makes me, me.

I'm a human that finds peace in devouring the written word. I discover myself written in pages long ago. I learn about myself and others and send them where they need to go. Like I'm a librarian of human emotions that have been bleeding forth onto paper for the last millennia, just searching the cosmos for someone else to understand. 

I'm not meant to be normal, and I love that about myself.