Secret: Why Can’t I Tell You?

Solitude brews the most potent of stinging thoughts. Why must life drain the very force we need to survive? I can’t help but wonder of the cruelties of fate, twisting and working its wonders upon my mind and soul as I ponder the likelihood of certain options. The power of thought, the power of words is what forces the freedom of speech to be specified in the bill of rights, in any Western society. It possesses so much power that a single sentence can shatter your hopes and beliefs or reinforce what you had desperately prayed for.

Even more powerful than the sway of words is the pondering of thought. Through thought one can create endless possibilities in one’s head, endless scenarios leading to endless daydreams, endless questions, endless hopes that will never be fulfilled. The power to think of your own accord inspires evolution of cultures, adaption’s of new ideas, new dreams for future generations to inherit. The power of thought must not be infringed upon, and yet why do I sit here, wishing I could turn my mind off and erase the questions from my head?

The world holds thousands of conflicts, millions of problems, with few solutions at hand. And yet here I sit, thinking solely of myself, and my own problems, my own solutions, my own inner conflicts which have no effect upon the wellbeing of anyone other than me. I alone hold power over my mind, and I alone am choosing to use that power to solve my own problems rather than to learn, to help solve the worlds issues which require thousands of minds to work on them, not just the figures who stand at a podium spewing words from a projector, not from their heart. The world needs people who are passionate about what they do, about what they want to do in life, about the things that everyone neglects and throws in the corner with other unfinished projects. So why am I so selfish?
            My problems are inconsequential in the scale of the universe. As you look through the thousands upon millions of years that the world has existed, that human kind has roamed the planet, why am I important? Why am I entitled to worry about my own life, when in the scale of things I’m simply a worker bee in a hive of zillions? I suppose that leads back to the idea of an individual can change society, but who would choose me to lead them? I’m nothing but a fifteen year old girl, lost and confused with her own simple problems that add up to nothing in the end. Who wants that as a leader? I believe strongly in human rights. I believe strongly in the idea that party boundaries are ridiculous by nature, designed solely to exclude people from elections. I believe strongly in the animal rights, in upholding moral values and equality. I believe strongly in the people I see around me, working hard to succeed in this world in whatever they dream of doing. So why can’t I believe in myself?
            Why can’t I believe in myself to take a chance, to let the world, or at least that one person, see how I truly feel? Why can’t I bring myself to open my mouth and use the power of words to influence at least one life? Words hold an infinite amount of power, as they will change lives. Think about that for a second. Every single word you say influences someone else, somewhere in some way, whether or not you know about it. Makes you think twice about what you say, doesn’t it?
            But what if what you need isn’t to think twice, but to just leap off of blind faith that what you are doing will work out? What if you have to believe in a power higher than yourself who wants your life to succeed, who wants your words to bring about the effect that you want? That’s another thing; those words that you speak hold meaning, meaning so powerful that they can change lives- but the meaning varies from one person to another; it’s relative. What if the thing that you say to that person is taken in a completely different context, skewing the meaning, skewing what you thought was proper? What if what you want to convey is simply lost in translation, wasted on deaf ears, on people who refuse to listen?

This just all leads up to a simple question, which could have been asked and understood by many without the ramblings above: why can’t I tell you how I feel, why can’t I tell you the truth?

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