So there's nothing to say. I've caught myself this week, opening my mouth to say something. But no words come. I've got words to say, but they hesitate. The ears, they want to be heard, but they aren't ready to hear this. So this week, I've tried talking. I've tried saying what I've been thinking. Words are cheap weapons that are easily deflected. Words are a candy that aren't sweet enough to be eaten. Words are just words. Air that was too stale to breathe.
And yet when I listen, everyone's talking. Everyone wants to be heard. Everyone wants to be in the centre, everyone wants to be the voice that everyone listens to. It's all the same in the end. I've locked myself into a permanent deja vu now, as everything I've heard, I've heard before, and I've heard before. The sun rises and sets, and I've seen it all before...
Nothing I do is new, but I've never done it before. I put my feet where I've put my feet before, but I've never been there before. I don't say anything, but I've said it all before.
But perhaps there are some things that I have yet to speak about. Things I haven't seen or felt yet that will only come with more experience in life, and more understanding of myself, and what makes me different, and more importantly, what makes me the same.
2 comments:
No words today?
But forth they flow anyway. Whatever there is to say or not to say. How can we not write, even if there are no thoughts, no words, not world ... it just comes from the fingers anyway.
The decision to be made.
Silence and madness?
Or vapid words and disbelief?
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