I say a lot of words.
More than that, I say
lot of words that are supposed to mean something.
But what if you don’t
believe them?
Do they still carry that meaning?
I’d like to think that
they do. I’d like to think that the message of hope that I share eight
hours a day, five days a week, is as true as I want the people I say it
to believe it to be. I’d also like to think that I can share that
message with people I care about, and have it be just as meaningful.
But it’s hard. It’s so hard to believe in something better in the
midst of our pain. To think that anything could feel more real than
this.
What do you say to someone who has lost a loved one?
What do you
say to someone who has had there heart broken? What do you say?
Words.
But are they enough?
They have to be.
For what else do we have but
words? And while the intention behind them can make all the difference,
they are still only words.
And for all the effort we make, they will only be as meaningful as
the listener allows them to be. Therein lies the key to the heart of
this matter. The idea that no matter how hard we try, we can’t force
someone to hear us, and that it’s not our responsibility to change their
perception. We can try. We have to try. And once we do? Our job is then
finished. We can only do so much. We can only present an alternative to
what they’re feeling, nothing more.
And that’s the hardest part. Recognizing our limits, and accepting
that once we reach them, that we have to stop. Our words are not
inexhaustible, and there will come a time when we say them just for the
sake of saying them. And when that time comes, we have said too much. I
say a lot of words. A lot of pretty and meaningful words, but sometimes I
have to stop.....
