Words

Words are meaningless without the depth of experience. Is it not experience the reason we are driven to write words? Sad experiences and happy ones- they each have unique words and ways of describing them, yet despite all that, the words remain scribbles. It is how they are interpreted that creates the imagery. For a picture is worth a thousand words, or the words worth a thousand pictures if interpreted correct?

These are just my ramblings as I struggle with opposing strands of thought. One that tells me to be quiet, silent and absorb it all; the other that tells me to express. I'm so confused, but also fearful of which path is right. Which path will not lead to pain, not so much on my behalf. This is so confusing, and words seem little to illustrate confusion, save to say that it is like a whirling mess of thoughts and emotions- a thunderstorm even, of sudden and swift turbulent shifts.