Words aren’t enough

Sometimes words aren’t enough.

Maybe they are enough, I’m just not enough to place them into perfection.

No matter how many books I read, I will never know the vast depth and breadth of language to explain how I feel. I try. I try by writing, both on paper and in my head. I try everyday in my conversations.

Words both astound and mesmerize me that I could talk about them for hours while also frustrating me to the point of resentful silence.

Every sentence is a careful choreographed dance to try to convince you that I am smart. Responsible. Powerful. Interesting. Worthy.

Maybe I’m trying to convince myself too.


No matter how much I try to ignore them, my mind keeps circling the block.

I struggle so much with words and what they mean. I care so much about my words. I care so much about others words.

I read a lot, and yet I’ve never read something as colloquial, as relatable, as perfect as my inner monologue. As the ebbs and flows of my emotions. It’s all just grasping at straws.

There are MANY moments where the light peaks through the window and a writer gets it perfect. A flutter in my chest of being understood. My eyes open wider and my breath catches itself.

But they are only glimpses.


I have a great bullshit filter.

I can see through all the flowery language and “poetry”. I can see the pandering. The hypocrisy is so loud it drowns out any truth. I can barely open my eyes it’s so overpowering.

I YEARN (this is such a great word) to speak Truth. To speak to the heart. To give myself and others those flutter in chest moments. Where someone just gets it. Where someone is speaking so honestly that it doesn’t feel like trying to impress, or trying to one-up someone. To speak so simply “human” that it’s universally understood to the very core.

It’s not about understanding every part and nuance of EVERY person’s experience. It’s about having the right words to explain it. I believe that we are all so similar and we all have a common understanding that nobody can quite put their finger on.


And how do you even write about not having the right words?

You can’t.

So now I join the ranks of those grasping at straws. The thousands of shelves and archives filled with people who thought they had the key. The key to make other people feel.

Isn’t that the core? Trying to make people feel something? Feel understood, or happy, or sad, or entertained, or curious, or loved. We are all trying to deep dive into each others souls but we have no scuba training. We can’t do it right but we keep feeling pulled deeper into the water, like it’s what we were made for.


There is no answer.

No call to action. No perfect conclusion. I can’t tell you how to try or dive deep when I am just as unqualified and flawed as you. None of us know what we are doing. I’m not going to pretend that I have any answers.

I think we all have bullshit filters, maybe some just need to be cleaned. We all know that we only ever scratch the surface of understanding the complexities and intricacies of the human condition. Words are as human as the people writing and speaking them. They are only a bit of light peaking through a window.

Hopefully we can all see the whole, glorious sun and sit in it, eyes closed, warm cheeks, feeling so completely whole. Words will just fade to nothing in the light of understanding and truth.


You know me. Constantly trying to pin everything down.

I’m running out of pins.

Olivia Grace


Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

1 Corinthians 13:12 NLT


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