words

I read the words. Feel them rolling off my tongue. Filling my mind and making a movie behind my eyelids. They hit close to the core of my inner self and I have to swallow.

I am not alone with these thoughts. I am not alone. The words reach inside of me and grab my heart and soul. They understand. They never judge. Few people can touch me so deep inside and so completely too.

You are one of them. You are real. Not only words, but human too. I can feel the tiny hair on your arm, when I caress it. I can feel your breath, when I touch my forehead to yours. I can feel the moisture of your lips, when I kiss you. You are real. Not a writer.

Your words are inside me. Teach me. Guide me. I live by your words. Not without questioning them, not without doubting them from time to time. But they make me strong. Stronger than I was. They make me think. They make me want to change.

Words.

Words are a powerful tool. No matter if they are written or spoken. They can lift you high up in the sky. Make you happy, but they can also make you cry. Happy tears, sad tears. Words can tear you down as well.

Nothing can be as hurtful as words. Physical wounds can heal, wounds made with vicious words stay with you a life time. Trust me, I know.

I have many words floating in my mind. Some are lyrics to songs. Some are odd thoughts, serious thoughts, silly thoughts. But there are also the painful memories. The ones that wake me up at night and let me speak that one questioning word: Why? I will never get an answer. But do I really want and need an answer? No. Instead, I concentrate on the happy memories. Good words. Words, that make me proud about myself and who I am.

Words.

I am good with words. At least writing them comes easy for me.

Scary honesty.

That’s what my writing has been labeled just last week. It comes naturally. They flow out of my fingers. I am not even really thinking about the words I use. Not when I write like this. Not when I write from the soul. From the heart.

Words.

They never come easy, when I stand face to face with new people. Face to face… I can’t look you in the face when we first meet. I can’t. I am afraid to see something judgmental there. I know, that it’s an unrealistic fear and yet, it is there. It freezes me. And my words. I become a stuttering mess. The right words are in my head. They simply refuse to be spoken. I can rarely come up with the right words, when I meet someone knew. But give me time. I need time, to sort through my words.

Words.

So powerful. Damaging. Healing.

I wouldn’t know anyone of you without my words. My powerful, smutty, sad, happy words. I am good with words. Written words. They touch people. Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them shake their heads and makes them wonder: Was this a lie?

Words.

My words are rarely lies. I know, that is not true for everyone. But if I can’t be honest with my words? How else can I be honest.

Scary honesty. Maybe it is true.

What certainly is, is that all my words… they are for you.