Words, words, words. All we have are words. Useful words and useless words, but words nonetheless. Sometimes I feel the weight of words, the heaviness of communication. Humans are social beings, so interaction and, especially, communication are keys to our survival. Words, words, words. I love and I hate words. I love and I hate people. Writing is an escape: I talk, but I don’t talk. I say things without saying them, without speaking them. Humans frighten me. Other human beings are like mirrors reflecting the best and the worst of myself. I’d rather not see anything. But one cannot remove himself or herself from the world around them, no matter how hard he or she tries. And, through it all, there still remain words. Words mean humanity; words mean communication, interaction. They are intended for someone else to read, hear, and interpret; or else there would be silence—complete silence. Is that death? Even in silence there is sound, one just has to listen. Listen until the silence reverberates and stings. Does that mean that even in death there is life? See what I mean: words, words, words. They can lead a person down a path to wonder, destruction, contemplation, and, most of the time, utter confusion. Words set us free and bind us at the same time. The irony of words. Words are meant to clarify; and yet, they can also muddle and make the water murky. I don’t want mud, though. I want refreshing, life-saving, invigorating, God-supporting, and crystal clear water. I want truth, I want beauty. But all I have are words, and yet all I have are words. Do you hear me?