My hands don't ever allow them to remain idle for too long. I feel an aching in them when they sit still; my mind always runs wild and my hands are the only way to relieve it of its own chaos, funneling the great storm that my thoughts make up and dotting a page with the rain. I sometimes think that my own thoughts are toxic but only if they remain in my mind. I have to express my thoughts, whether verbally or in written form.
That leaves me in a conundrum as I am not sure every feeling I have can be reflected on my computer screen nor through my vibrato.
26 letters are all we have in English. 26 letters can tell every single story ever told and craft every story that will eventually be told. Everyone's experience, everyone's perspective, everyone's way-of-life. 26 letters.
Imagine if we all could master those 26 characters; imagine the changes. "Misunderstanding" would become an obsolete word while "understanding" would carry more weight. If we think information is easily available now, imagine if every expert in every subject could find a way to make everyone an expert.
I want to master language, every single one of them. I want my words to matter and my sentences to build to a climax so powerful, the world would quake with a force that would register a ten on the Richter but with the grace of rhythmic rattle. I want my thoughts to inspire; I want them to escape from me like a whisper, pervading the air softly and whimsically, while still reverberating like thunder, echoing for minutes and staying with everyone who hears them like an ear-worm. I want so much for everyone by wanting so much for myself.
My mind is cluttered and it doesn't always make sense but what if I could transcribe that mess onto a page or two? Maybe then I wouldn't feel so crazy. Facing a storm alone is a lot scarier than facing a storm with friends, right? We can observe the rain together and, though I'm the only one drenched from it, we can all comment on the weather. Otherwise, I am just a boy in the rain with his ink bleeding and paper crumbling.
"You look cold, Omar, maybe you should come inside."
"You can't squeak your shoes like that inside the building."
"Maybe you're better off in the rain, you've already been out there for so long."
26 is the most powerful number in the English language, even stronger than zero. If no one hears my voice, am I really speaking? Yes. Do I really exist? Of course.
Does anyone actually have to find their voice or does the world just need to learn how to listen?
26 letters wrote this and twenty-six letters will make up every single thing I write after this and can express every single word I say after this moment. There isn't just power in words, but power in the intent behind them. Mastering those 26 can keep intent from being confused and provide a unity that only literature can capture.
I want write until my fingers bleed and my hand is covered in ink or lead. I want to etch my abstract thoughts onto the blank slate of a reader's mind and create something beautiful. I am a scribe and as I invoke my Muse, I look to the stars in hopes that I can join them; 26 letters name them and maybe 26 letter can propel one to them as well.
