An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.
Learning that words
cover up mystery
and disguise lies.
And what of me then?
Do I carry forth with a jar of ink in hope I don’t deceive them?
Words fall short. They cannot define the anxiety we feel while waiting, the gut wrenching feeling that overcomes us while we read, or the pain the comes with discovering what we never wanted to know. Words are words.
Should we allow other people to be responsible for our heartbreak in what they say?