“words, words, words — i’m so sick of words,” eliza dolittle exclaims in my fair lady.
i love words. but sometimes they are so inadequate. is it only writers who struggle to write? i feel sometimes that the words we have are so used up they don’t mean anything anymore, not really. they’re fraying on the edges, fading, crumbling away.
i spent upwards of 10 minutes tonight trying to describe how i felt in reaction to something. in the end all i could write was wow.
maybe there’s a reason we can’t say, can’t sufficiently express some things. maybe this is a way God shows us our frailty, our feebleness.
“let there be light!” He said. He imbued one word with a million manifestations of the thing He imagined — with infinite, minute meanings.
we have millions of words and can’t seem to say anything.
am i alone in this frustration? i’ve been second-guessing myself six ways from sunday this week. maybe words don’t fail me. maybe i fail them.
sometimes when words fail, we’re to do something else to express – draw something, make a list, walk around the block, run, sing really loudly. I’m not sure. It’s just that sometimes, another art form works to unlodge the words. Or, even doodling!