The Spin of the Ball

I keep writing words. And I share them on the internet. Why? I have this belief that you’ll get something out of them. You may have had similar words go through your head and it might be nice to read them from someone else. To feel less alone. Because I think we all feel alone to some extent, even if we’re sitting next to someone. Even a loved one. How could they possibly know what I’m going through? This you may think. Perhaps we could talk about this more. Find the words to describe what you are going through. I think that would be fun. I guess that’s why I’m doing this. To feel less alone. To know there is someone else on a computer, reading what I am writing. Realising that we are all going through the same thing. A weird mystery that’s difficult to put into words.

I learn a bit about words with every post. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, “Oh no, I could have phrased that better.” I think good writing is unambiguous. Precise. Impossible to misread. But it’s hard to write the perfect sentence. And in trying to write the perfect sentence, you can go against your instincts and become inauthentic. For who among us is perfect? Let the imperfections be, I’m beginning to think. If you read my thoughts in a different way than I intend, that’s ok. They’re just words. I think the best things are beyond words.

Maybe the words have as much meaning as we are willing to give them. Maybe I’m wasting my time with them. But what the heck is time, anyway? I’m sure I’ll never know. I suspect God just made it up so She could write stories that span it.