Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

Words

Words are so empty. Just black print on a white background, devoid of feeling, emotionless. How are we supposed to use them to covey what is tattooed on our hearts and souls? They seem useless—powerless—worthless when these emotions cannot be etched into them.

Saying “I love you” to someone who has shaped and formed the person you are seems useless. I want to share my heart, my emotions, my true feelings. But these words are like plastic. I need words that are made of blood, heart, soul—the very fibers of my being. Words seem one-dimensional, when what I need are three-dimensional words—words that when spoken or written will jump right out to hug and comfort you.

I think this is what music does; it adds to words the dimension and emotion they’re missing. I am not a singer, songwriter, or musician, so I am not blessed with the ability to give words the depth and emotion I want to express.

I wish I could find a way to allow you to see, feel, and understand the depth these emotions have in my soul. I feel so unheard, so misunderstood, because of my inability to express what I mean. I’ve tried to allow these words to fall from my mouth with all the rawness and all the realness I feel inside, but I’m never really satisfied with my attempts.

I wish I could pull my heart out through my chest and let you read all the words that have been tattooed on it. Maybe then those words could speak to you in all their depth and all their truth, allowing you to see what I wish you saw, to know what I wish you knew.