Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about words and the power they hold. Truthfully, they should have been as inconsequential as the pebbles and gravel at our feet, merely giving us that satisfying crunch beneath our shoes. Innocuous and benign. But they’re the fissures crumbling into wide jaws that can eat us alive, without remorse, or the poppy fields which flourish into the idyll of our deepest imaginings.
I have a love/hate relationship with words. Because on the one hand, it’s beautiful in the way it lends itself to art. How it caresses our thoughts and whispers over our mind with an elegance as transfixing as watching the effortless grace of ballerinas. Or how it reaches out to us in those dark places, rubbing away the tears often unseen by others. But in the next breath, like a charlatan, it can become the rapier that rends us to irreparable shreds of ourselves.
More than food, almost more than water, our lives hinge – to an extent – on the words of others. It’s the reason some of us work so hard, for this approval that can get us closer to a desired outcome. But this isn’t meant to analyze what others do, because each of us deals with unique circumstances. In my case, however, I found myself thirsting after someone’s praise and affection.
I needed it to feel contented. Without his words, I became so miserable; there was nothing that could replace that hollowness inside me. Not until he came and gave me my fill for the day. Isn’t that pathetic? Liking someone so much that everything suddenly seems off-kilter, as if the sun is full of mud reflecting bleak and ugly colors, the second you don’t hear a word from them? That was me. Still is, to an extent.
And what I want to do, is find that margin of balance, where it won’t feel as if my brain is fragmenting just because we may not speak. Sometimes he’s very compassionate and endearing, other times he treats me with a noncommittal indifference. And more than anything, I despise inconsistency. But I rationalize these things; he’s only human and this is something we do. Sometimes we have good days, other days we could care less about certain things. Yet, I’m conflicted because, towards him, I care all the time.
My only crutch in all this is that I’ve come to accept I can’t control anyone – only my reactions to what they do. And as a simple rule of nature, the body acclimatizes itself to different situations and can live without something it’s been deprived of for a long time. In the same way, I should learn not to always indulge my need to pick from the fruit of his lips and greedily sink my teeth into the flesh of his words. Sure, it’s nice in the moment, to lick at the nectar and relish the flavor, but such an addiction is never truly healthy.
I never want to get to a point where I feel irrevocably lost without him…