Sometimes I sit for several minutes--pen in hand and journal open in front of me--without writing a single word. My hand is poised, ready to release the thoughts and feelings trapped inside of me. My heart wants nothing more than to write.
But then I realize that those trapped thought sand feelings can't be translated into words. Any attempt would be in vain and would result in nothing more than a meaningless string of letters, symbols, and spaces. And wouldn't it be a shame to tarnish such happy and beautiful emotions in that way? Wouldn't it be disrespectful to some of my deepest and most natural feelings?
I believe in the power of words. I believe they are meaningful and beautiful and special. I believe that the right combination of words has the power to fill a heart to bursting with love or tear it apart and destroy it, depending on that particular group of words' purpose.
But I also believe in the mysterious, shifting, organic nature of thoughts and feelings. I believe they are worth something even if you don't know what they mean or even what they are. Not all thoughts are meant to have words put to them. Not all thoughts can be labeled with words. And not all thoughts or feelings can be explained. Like the way your gut tells you when someone's smile is a facade disguising a broken, troubled heart or how your heart can be full to the brim with joy even on a perfectly ordinary day with nothing particularly joyful to report.
Some thoughts and feelings are just mean to exist. To just be.
So let them be.
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