I doubt if it’s the beginning.

This afternoon, as I crossed the road, I felt a whirlwind, like swirling swords around me. It reminded me of a place I once lived, where such moments were common.

We are made of words. Despite what scientists claim, I believe countless races of words occur within us every day. How many do we actually release?

Sharing our thoughts can bring up many emotions. Will others truly care? Could our words unintentionally hurt someone? Will people accept our vulnerability and understand we’re just being human? Are we clear enough in expressing our thoughts, especially when language limitations come into play?

Is it even feasible to concisely document the words?  I’m not sure, but I believe everyone has a reason for using them. For me, it’s about making these words useful to someone who reads them. I’m not sure why, but it gives me a sense of purpose, like I’m helping in some way.

I struggle with my savior complex, and it waylays my everyday living. That’s why I share these words.I’m grateful the Internet allows words to travel faster than paper ever could. This way, my message doesn’t have to wait for hands to carry it or face delays that might slow its journey.

It’s not always possible to share everything, but having the courage to try is meaningful and rewarding. Simply daring to act is worthy of praise.