As Important As Air
The pen is mightier than the sword. Well, in my opinion at least. I believe in words: written, spoken, or thought. Words are used for good, for evil, and for everything in between. They make up our existence and who we are as people, because words are our everything. As social beings, words are in every moment – in our heads or out of our mouths. Words as important as air.
After a particularly rough day or week or hour or month all I can think to do is pick up some paper and a pen and write. I write sentence after sentence until there are no more unwritten words ricocheting in my head. When I am finished I date my words, fold my expose in half, in half again, in half one more time, and place them on top of many other folded words in a dark blue tin. I believe that if someone read my words, they would know me. They would know that I am happy and sad at the same time, that it’s hard being the great person everyone thinks I am, that I want a boy that loves my crooked smile, that I want to grow up to be someone.
I believe words can get me anything I want. In any argument, my words can put other words in their place. They can cut, hurt, urge, divert. These words are my soldiers. Call it manipulating if you wish, but my words (if I use them the right way) can make others feel however I want them to.
“When you do these things, it hurts my feelings more than it makes me mad, “ I would say.
To which the unsuspecting defender replied, “I am so sorry. I feel awful.”
Words are my sword.
“You guys are the craziest parents out of all my friends’. Well, except for Mrs. Alcoholic. But she’s medicated and goes to AA meetings so that’s not even saying that much. I work so hard at everything I do. I deserve to have you trust me,” they stab.
“Fine, but this spending the night business has to stop,” my dad concludes.
At the time, I agree whole-heartedly and tell my dad that he is right. He is the law. I will abide by him. Of course by the time next weekend rolled around, I was sleeping over at a friend’s. It is never ending, but not as malicious as it may seem. More often than not I use words as my shield, not my sword.
“Yes, I still like you for obvious reasons. I can’t stop thinking about you at times… I hate it. I’m a jerk all the time, because I don’t know what to do. I know you take what I do differently than other girls, but everybody’s different I guess. So I’ll give you a choice, take it as you want to. You can continue to listen to my BS crap or you can just leave and never look back again. Remember? I don’t like looking back at my mistakes,” the ultimate word-master said to me.
“Mr. Infatuation… I am leaving and never looking back,” I replied.
I use them as my defense against those who can hurt me. I use them as my tool to be heard. I use them as my key to the future. I believe if I use words eloquently then they will have those older and more established than me, listening. And that small accomplishment can lead me anywhere.
I believe in words. I believe in words to hurt, help, defend compliment, clear things up, or make things messy. I believe that words speak louder than actions and that words are as important as air.
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