Words fail me. And I’m good with words. I mean, I’m not ever going to win a Scrabble tournament or keep to my promise of learning and memorizing a word-a-day. But, nonetheless, I’m good with words.
So why do common phrases and quotations not help?
Why is there no solace of peace in the authors of the past?
When the sun rises and you ache for just a few more moments of peace, you still open your eyes. You can’t hide from the rays that penetrate the glass any more than you can change the choices of others.
I feel the bitter stab of the icy wind and the feelings I used to feel when it hit my face are nonexistent.
I am without words for where I’m at.
Every adjective seems wrong. There is no description for being in a place, in a space within your mind where limitations are both endless and stifling. There is no name for yourself when you are fluctuating. There is no conclusion to be drawn when closure is lost to time.
So for now, I will become the unknown words that haunt my mind.