On Facebook, the ABOUT tab has an about you section. Years ago, as a sophomore who yearned to be understood as creative, I wrote: “I’m in love with words.”
Somehow, in my immature and younger mind, I comprehended the power and beauty of words.
I had just began this blog and felt a deep need to write. My blogger page became my sole place of honesty (to a degree) and ritual.
A place, I found freedom to voice my opinion and emotions. I could be real without the confrontation of negating eyes or vulnerability before another. I wasn’t using writing as a mask to hide behind, but rather a medium of learning how to be confidant in my own voice. And in a way, to discover its true sound.
Therefore, I was surprised when a friend of mine commented on the solidity of my words. Using my love for them as an example of what I say or do not say. Reminding me that because of this love, I was due to complete honesty and mediated spoken words. I hadn’t realized others would comprehend me as one who only speaks without fault or without mindlessness.
Do you understand? I was told that since I value words so much, the escape of the tongue (a thoughtless word) never happens.
Even a mediated thought, processed and well thought of can still, to a degree, be thoughtless.
But this, my friends, is the beauty of words.
When that moment comes.
A moment of true thoughtlessness, when speech happens and you do not control a thing. You speak and then your mind automatically goes in auto correct or stumbles to find a way to cover up your slipped confession. In this moment, a deep truth breaks forth. Perhaps, a truth you never wanted to admit or forgot existed or lost along the way resurfaces. Like a trigger it releases a certain amount of hidden truth you perhaps buried deep within your quiet heart.
“The guy I liked…” I heard myself say, an alarm in my brain went off. Where did those words come from? I thought. Puzzled, I quickly went to fix my thoughtless words, “The guy…. that guy,” I tried, but found I was too surprised by myself. A light chuckle escaped my lips and I shook my head, saying the guy’s name and smiling at the friend I was speaking with.
We both laughed. I finished my story.
Later, I realized my tongue had escaped from running its words through my brain. Among the months of repression and denial, I had forgotten that to one degree those words were very much true.