Conniving. Manipulative. Ruthless. Solitary words potent with meaning. Evocative, stealing within you, the reader. Thieves of emotion. Of course, you’ve read such words before. Conniving cannot be skimmed over. It stops you. Calls to mind an image: a treacherous woman, long dark hair and frozen lips, plotting the demise of some naïve hero. Such power prose possesses in that it creates from nothing more than the blank page an entire world in which to escape. Words have always been a refuge for me from the often hectic reality of life. Face it. Life is overwhelming at times. Made all the more hectic by the pressures of college…of conformity, relationships, grades…and yet still I seek salvation, the sweet salve of calm words a film over the cuts and bruises of so much demand. Again I find myself immersing myself within bound text, maps to set me free from this place surrounding me. Unbound, untied, and untried by such trials as college does force one face. Within the worn prose of classics my adventures require far more grace and daring. More important perhaps is that within them I never lack the qualities needed to end happily ever after. In truth, in reality, I am flawed and waiting for something magical.
Rather than only read and passively let life pass I do write. Scrawled impressions of life to angst driven ink upon tear splotched paper. The blood of wounded heart to empty page does fill and grow heavy while my breath comes smoother. Writing to me is as necessary as breathing. Rather, it confirms my breath, reminding me I am alive. When my fears find words they lose the emotional grip from my throat. True, I can fail, but in my journal I find strength that I can continue on.
Words, like a photo, have the power to still a moment and give it lasting breath. The intensity of love between such fictional characters as Romeo and Juliet do still have the strength to make our heart melt and our eyes come to tear. Words transform an idea into an image and an impossibly complex world into a simple story. In books each action is defined and each side given merit and it makes all seem sensible. Perhaps that is why words so move us. Because they validate each movement as though it would be inevitable. In college every class we take is moving us further towards our future and yet so many of us are uncertain if that future is exactly right for us. Romeo and Juliet knew that their love was worth dying for. Reality is not near so simple, no relationship is without work or doubt that it could be the wrong person or the wrong time. Words give us hope that something definite and permanent will come along and whisk us to someplace beautiful and lasting.
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