Trapped In My Own Words

I sit. Hands on my keyboard typing these very words. There’s actually a lot to say, but that’s reserved for more private settings. What’s something that I can write that is uncontroversial yet unconventional, something that I can be proud of yet done humbly, something shallow yet profound?

If good writing is something that comes from the heart, then what’s the quickest route to mine without cutting open my chest. If I am to write something personal, how can I veil it with passive metaphors or allusions? Or better yet, how can I elevate myself with metaphors or allusions! How can a create this image of myself for people to read?

I can only speak for myself. The things I write never really represents who I am and what I want to express. Nor can it ever do such a thing. I write to find myself in an ever growing maze of life. Ha! Here I go again. Caught myself doing what I talked about a paragraph above.

Ironically, this enigma of words represents me. Trapped in a web of words, unable to break free from the intricate fetters of 21st-century language. Puns, sarcasm, flowery and course language, fill my vocabulary more so that truth and honesty. Everyone needs a good laugh. It’s necessary and essential. But we all know laughter is not the only thing we can get out of language.

Language is like a beautiful gift, so fucking grandeur, yet sometimes hard to “guage”  its true meaning. This leaves quite a satisfactory ending, no?

 

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