Tulips

I often find myself trying to adopt a Spartan Wit, trying to encapsulate as much meaning as I can in as few words as possible.  I prefer to focus on the life experiences that don’t require or involve words anyway.  Even better if those few words match some rhyme or rhythm that “speaks to the soul”.  Succinctness can add power and memorability.

But in some cases… I don’t have words, and they don’t belong anyway.  I find I’m just trying to impress someone, an invisible composite observer made up of all the people in my life I ever intellectually adulated.  Melancholia, mourning, and lovelornness aren’t improved with words.  Neither are sunsets, perfect smiles and the smell of someone’s favorite flower.  Extended times of solitude can help give perspectives on these limitations of words.

Sometimes love can live forever in happiness or in pain.  Sometimes a person can’t be a good friend because they’re consumed by their own issues.  Sometimes they need space and a long, long time to heal.  Sometimes leaving them is the only possible way you might see them again some day in better conditions.  Sometimes you spend all your energy reminding yourself of that reality just to drown out the heartache and loss that you feel in every bone in your body.  Sometimes it’s good to be reminded how much it hurts to not have someone because it says you’re alive.  And sometimes… none of this is adequate to describe it all happening.