If words are what provide our story intent, a logical flow -
the beginning, middle and the end, where do we slot the silences? That one
inexplicable moment in which the words form in your mouth but your brain
refuses to say them out loud. Like that text you meant to send. It was perfect.
It was smart, funny, conveyed exactly how you felt. But you never sent it. You
couldn't. You swallowed your half spoken words and your well meaning intentions
but couldn't swallow your pride. You deleted the text, told yourself it was the
way to go. In what folder do we save these texts - these rejects of our
intellectual mind, the effort of our emotional self? The words that only have a
meaning if said then, but lose character with time? The words that you will
regret not saying but don't say because you tell yourself it isn't worth your
vulnerability. Can we convey the burden of these words with our silence in the
hope that the person, who is meant to understand, will do so anyway? That the
redundancy of your words will only be more obvious in the face of the strength
of your silence? Or are words our only way?
