Words were made to magnify. Magnificent aren’t they. How they persist on outlining and amalgamating. Refining and polishing. What I do say you can believe, what I don’t say you can wonder why. Speckles of dust look pretty from afar so why put a damper on things? Why not keep things pretty dusty?
I can fashion a kaleidoscope out of words and you can decide which converging colours you like best. Even though you’d encourage otherwise, honesty is not always welcome (and certainly never easy). Words were made to brutally exhibit but there are some things I just wouldn’t want you to see. Even I cannot read the pages I write (they always exceed a page), because yes I’ll admit, I’m ashamed of my triviality, my narcisism, my feelings (how terribly human of me). I write in cursive, words slanted and hard to decipher, dribbling and dispersed on lined paper in a haphazard way so that I can feel relief again without much afterthought. I keep the pages beautiful and cryptic- forgive me for finding it easier to hide.
I tailor my words here for you. Because I want you to know that I think more than I publish and feel more than I let you know.