Words

It's funny, in a way, the impact that words can have on one's life. Spoken, written, thought. They don't even have meaning, not really. The only meaning a word has is what we give it. So how come they're so powerful? Do we not want that power in ourselves, so give it up in the words we then give others? The power of a word. They can be used to break, but also to create. To hurt or to save. Meaningless but with all the meaning in the world. Why should one string of letters have a different meaning than the next? Why is it you can put the letters in this way but not in taht?

Words set me free. Writing set me free. Sharing my words, giving them power, giving them meaning, and then giving them to others.

Yet I'm also trapped now. Trapped in the words. Sometimes I don't realize it, because I had lent myself freely to the words, open to the power they held. But sometimes I can feel them tight around me, pinning me down. I don't have the words to say what I mean, even though the words hold no meaning at all, so logically they should have whatever meaning I give them. . . right? I have too many words, so many that they come out even when I don't mean for them too. Even the wordless words, those ones that say: "I love you" in a touch or "why did you do this to me?" in a glance. They don't need to be said to be words, they don't need to be said to have power. Words, we give them meaning and set them free, hoping what we feel can be contained within the thin, fragile letters. 

But what do I know, since these are only words too.