The real me


If you want to know the real me, the true essence of my being, read my words.  I live in a world of people.  I engage with people every day of my life and I present a mere part of myself but, if you want to know me to the core of my vitality, read the words that I have written.  Those words are me.  Those idioms and poems somehow define me by using words I could never use on a daily basis.  Those phrases and ideas bring more of me to the surface than simply seeing me in three dimension.   Those words are my truth.

I connect with people emotionally and physically but, on a much deeper level, I spiritually connect with words.  Their subtle nuances paralyze me.  Their deep meanings leave scars that carve a map of my journey.  Their richness fills me and leaves me satiated.  I could be poor in monetary means the rest of my days but I will be rich if I still have words.

I am a slave to my passion, a victim of the alphabet that forms phrases in my mind.  Words wake me from slumber and force themselves into my conscious thought.  They wrap around me, enlivening me with their embrace.  They saturate the white noise in my brain.

Words will always bring the real me to the surface.