I like words.
I love to write, read, sing, recite poetry. I like reading Shakespeare aloud, because it’s so rythmical and fluid. I just like the way some words sound as they roll off my tongue and escape into the air like birds–don’t you think some words are beautiful? Lovely, that’s a nice word. And paraselene. Irritating, that’s another nice word. Blaze. Fury. Infinite. Halcyon. Evanescent. Translucent. Echo. They’re so pretty and smooth and easy to say and they glide out in these really rounded ways. They’re also pretty to write in cursive. I love writing in cursive. Writing in general is just soothing. It’s much slower than typing, which is also relaxing because of the comforting clicking noise of the keyboard, but writing by hand is just so comforting.
And then there’s the trick of choosing the right words at the right time. I don’t even know how to say it, but sometimes when I’m reading, I have to stop and reread a sentence because it was worded so beautifully. I’m a big big fan of Neruda’s poetry, and when I read his poems, I have to whisper them, because they’re so pretty. “…and the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.”
Sometimes I just run into these perfect sentences, and they’re both meaningful and deep and beautiful to write and beautiful to say. Song lyrics are like this. “Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes and it takes and it takes, and we keep living anyway…And if there’s a reason I’m still alive, when everyone who loves me has died, I’m willing to wait for it.” Some songs make me cry because their lyrics are so perfectly balanced, perfectly written.
People underestimate the power of words. Single words can make you cry, or make you laugh–think of Snape’s “Always.” That’s why I want to learn how to write, why I want to read more, so I can always have the right words to smile at. It sounds incredibly weird, I know, but I just. Love. Words. So much.
And that is the end of my weirdo literature-nerd blathering journal about my love for words.