Words

People are not inherently terrible, we are a social species. We are however, prone one or both of two  terrible forces, and those are fear and words.

Fear dictated the lives of our ancestors, it dictated the choices of previous generations, it dictates our lives even now.
Fear is worst when it comes to the heart, we teach ourselves "don't get close, you get hurt".
We teach ourselves that we aren't worthy, that we are weird and unlovable. We teach ourselves not to take a chance, not to go out on limbs.
We teach ourselves these broken lessons all while we hold in our hearts our human idols, humans as flawed and wonderful as we are afraid.
You can fall in love with small smiles and sarcasm, with the awkward and the intellectual, with the sound of a voice... we are a social species, we are designed to attach to others. We are designed to bond, to fall fast and hard.
So when we have a hard time doing just this, when we cannot connect, we perceive ourselves- and fear we are perceived- as broken.
When we are afraid, we neglect connection, we fill it with mindless and empty affections, obsessions.
I am the type of broken to fall in love and obsession with three other dangerous things. I fall in love with potential, I fall in love with intellect, and I fall for perhaps the most dangerous thing of all... words.

Words.

Words are my lifeblood, ink is on my skin, in my skin, in my veins. Words are my world, words are how I connect to the world with whoever and however I can. Words are how I was destroyed, how I healed, words are how I live and how I love. Words brought me here; into the world, to the brink of suicide... and words brought me back from it more than I care to count. Words brought me to the stage where words would save me again, and words... would fail me here. It is here that words would for the first time fail me completely, because words cannot present in any scale, cannot encompass, words cannot begin to explain what this place brought me. Words fall short, words stutter and fail, words saved me here. Small words saved something beyond me, they saved my dream.
Words saved words, if that can be seen as sensible in saying.
Using just words, you can build entire worlds.
Yet for all these words, I am perhaps the greatest idiot alive, a hypocrite, in one word.
I preach here of words, but I cannot, for the life of me, to those who bring to my mind countless words, and my heart constant warmth, utter a single one of what's true, to me, to my heart, to my dreams.
It is that dreadful month, the month of empty words and oversold hope. It is the month of the words I fear, it is a month built around the words I wanted, wasted, wept. It is what I call the Bastard Month.
It is February.
December and her dreams have gone, the new year has gone stale, and time marches on without regard for words.
It is February and I feel an  ache to my core, down my spine, the ache is alone and I can only laugh at it. Alone because that's what I know best, alone because I am afraid.
Alone because the heart alone is supposed to be safe, but we are social creatures, and the heart alone is the heart that aches. Forsake the heart, and what have you left?
Still I the fool, fall with my whole heart, for words. I fall hard for words, afraid to utter even one.
So I resign myself to words, I cannot say clearly what I want, because so often in the past; when I've been understood, I've been rejected.
When I've been understood is when I've been hurt and betrayed, degraded.
So I will wait for nothing, and I will make my peace with words in the Bastard's Month.