If Language Were Liquid, It'd Be Rushing Into This Silence

Language is the liquid that we're all dissolved in.
Great for solving problems, after it creates a problem.

-"Blame It on the Tetons" by Modest Mouse

This is the story of my life. All I have to my name are my words. I have life, death, and words. These tools that bind me and, at the same time, set me free. A gift? A burden? I have never figured it out. Sometimes it is such a curse to know full well that the only way I'll ever be understood is by the very thing I actively, purposefully keep hidden from the world. But there is a sense of release, too, to know that I am able to have this very personal possession all to myself. Maybe people just aren't meant to be understood. Maybe it is our biological burden as humans to live a life where relationships with other humans is a necessary yet impossible feat.

Sometimes words act as a cushion to our fragile beings...sometimes words strip away all the protection one builds up around themselves to make them vulnerable. Words can bind hearts with kindness and consideration. Words can tear down the very makeup of a person. Words are weapons...and I often find that my arsenal holds such deadly devices that if they were ever discovered, my world would never be the same. That is the most terrifying feeling: to know the destructive power of your own thoughts. I've kept secrets and lies in my soul for so long that I don't know how to let them go. I don't know how to purge myself of these words...of everything that eats away at my being. I am suffocating beneath the weight of my most valued and deadliest possession.

I want to be around long enough to leave behind a legacy. A legacy stemming from words of love and wisdom and age. Not all these words that I hold within my heart now, the ones that eat away and destroy all the good once living within me. In fact, I'm not sure there is any good left at all. Maybe it's too late for hope.

Maybe my words are running out.