Turns out, words have been my comfort all along.
Lately my world is narrowing down to words. From word games on the computer and phone to poetry and novels. All my days surround myself with comforting walls of the things I understand. Not these messy things like emotions, but the labels for them, neat and tidy. Words are restful and precise, and say exactly what you mean to.
When young, I would disappear into novels, imagining rich worlds full of people and places I have never been. I would read poetry, the precision of well placed words like gems on a strand of silver. I would write, people going through my head like dancers to a music only I can hear.
The song faded over time, real life intrudes. I had to put away the words and their safety. I was tossed in wild storms and ignorance, and made to feel small for liking the thing that some consider to be out of date. Get with the times, people don’t talk like that anymore.
Characters receded into the depths of my spirit, never gone entirely, but shadowy and difficult to touch. I would try, but they always moved just out of reach.
But here I stand on the edge of change, and they are all still there, shimmering softly in the moonlight. Just waiting for me. I begin slowly, using games and puzzles and ways to waste time, pretending I don’t feel the rising tide beyond. It is there, gathering strength.
Soon, it will break free and I will be me again.
~selah