From that night on, I think I truly began to come into myself. I now had an explanation and reason for loving books so much, for feelings things from song lyrics and poetry most people didn't feel. In the past 4 years since then, I've come into myself even more and know what things about grammar, the English language, hyperboles, punctuation marks, etc. do to the blood in my bones. I am passionate about words. Some of my favorite songs in the world aren't my favorite because of the way they sound, but rather because of what they say. And that also makes it difficult for me to even try to choose one favorite song - because so many songs have made me feel so many different things at so many different times, that I simply can't put my finger on just one.
But this week, something changed. (I'm so serious about this change that I just put ear plugs in my ears as I write this in order to block out all of the outside noise.) I'm not sure where to begin, or how to begin, but I know that I need to just trust my fingers to do the typing that my mind is slowly feeding them. There are words that once strewn together were made, I feel, to make my heart shake and my eyes well up with tears. There are tones in a voice that speak beautiful lines of heartfelt truths that make my ear drums vibrate in a way normal tones and words don't. I must try to convey what some of these poems I'm speaking of have done to me.
The first one I'm speaking of came into my life while sitting in a friend's car outside of Starbucks. The poem began, and I broke. My insides were taken over by a tidal wave and then mashed back together by sticks of glue and Scotch tape, and I don't think I'll ever be the same again. I've never had words destroy and heal me so much. So I listened again, on Friday night. And I was slowly but immediately wrecked even more than before - it took me quite some time to stop the tears and the shaking. (I am an emotional masochist. I love sadness, because it is real life.)
But the second one, the second poem I'm speaking of, I listened to alone, with headphones in my ears and my eyelids heavy with sleep, and again, I broke. It's not necessarily what the words are saying that get to me so much. No, it's the way the beauty of a human mind puts words together and creates imagery and metaphors that you never dreamed would come true. And I'm scared to share these words with you, because I'm scared they won't touch you like they've touched me. And I want to protect them and keep them holy and sacred in my own heart. (But I won't be greedy - if you want the titles, shoot me an email. But please be kind and don't share your response or lack therof with me, I beg you.)
with which I lean toward the opposite."