If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear it, does it make a sound?
If a blog is not read, does it exist?
Do words never read mean anything?
I am not sure.
Why do I write? Why do I feel the need to use words to express things that are never read or heard, or would be better left unspoken?
I use words constantly. Those who know me will tell you that I am continuously making some smart ass comment when I should shut up. And I work with words daily, using them to qualify and quantify the needs of people with disabilities, to advocate for better lives for them. And when I was younger, I wanted to be a writer.
However, words sometimes fail me.
Sometimes I am existing on some elemental level where all I sense is darkness, despair, emptiness and dread. At these times I find words forsake me. While I have written some of my best creative work while depressed, I lack the language at these times to ask for help, to ask for what I need, to get through it.
And when it passes? It passes due to chemical shifting, or things changing for the better in my world temporarily. Sometimes it passes because I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and just live through it. But it rarely passes because words brought me through it.
But when it passes, I am not left with a plethora of words for explanation, a good get-outta-jail-free-later plan. I am still left with the sadness and soreness of the darkness, and the will to write if not the talent.
So I write.