Words are powerful. Carefully chosen, the right words can lift your spirits and send you soaring for a day, a week, heck for a long time to come. I still remember the first time someone told me they loved me. Never had I felt so accepted, so enveloped by care. The concept was so foreign to me, it moved me to tears - just three simple words. The other night I read through some letters and emails from the past that still had the muscle to warm my heart. Those expressions of love brought back sentiments of acceptance that still ring true today. It's an amazing thing to be affirmed, to be cherished despite all the faults, and in effect, despite me.
But the wrong words, they can pierce you like a dull knife in a tender place. And just when the wound is about to heal, a quick remembrance of an innocent jab pushes the knife that you thought was gone, even deeper. What's even worse is when I turn out to be the wielder of the weapon. When someone tells me I've done them wrong, the feeling of remorse overwhelms me. "You hurt me" can send a wave of regret that follows me in everything I do. I can't focus, can't eat, and can hardly find the strength to smile. And then words will inevitably fail me - saying "I'm sorry" never seems to be adequate. When you need them the most, words just don't have the strength to right a wrong.
As much as I love to write, my words will never be enough.
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