I started putting thoughts on paper today. The way I did before my head got all turned around and inside out and whatnot. And in my purging of thoughts and words, I realized that even if I ever was articulate enough to manifest some sort of sense out of them, I will never be able to say what I want to. Not the way that I want it to sound. Not the way that I want it to feel. There’s too much there.
Love and loss and sadness and guilt and happiness rolled into a flour tortilla and served with a side of rice and inadequacy. Because yes, my mind has prepared a bittersweet Mexican dish that I like to call Burritos con Miedo. The salsa is exquisite.
I am haunted by these words. Words that I can’t utter outloud. Words that I can’t even bring myself to admit. The sound would be heinous and horrible and I would be left with the bitterness from someone that I can’t accept that sort of thing from. Someone that I truly love.
Which is why these words will make it to paper before they ever make it to my lips. They will flow from my fingertips in a stream that requires no thought. But it helps to read them back. It helps to see them. And to feel them. And to know them as true.
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