The Conviction of Things Not Seen.

Hmmmm that was strangely reassuring, to see the title of my previous post. Perhaps that's what I need so sorely.

Let's backtrack here, kinda.

One of the fears every writer has must be that, one day, words will fail you. The perpetual terror that suddenly your sentences don't work anymore; that the words you string together turn out to be just that. Because one of the fears everyone must have is that, one day, we'll realize that we've never quite been able to make ourselves understood. Never fully; and especially never by the ones we most desperately wanted and needed to.

It's a fear present (and most inconvenient) at every (possibly) significant moment - from drafting a speech to a simple message on a birthday card, from innocent conversations to the heartfelt, the terrifying letters. What if my message, the core of what I'm trying to say, does not convey itself fully to the intended? For someone to whom so much is predicated on words... that is a most frightful thought indeed.

And on the subject of fear.. Far be it from me to try and dissect that topic here, less to offer up this simple observation, or even query if you will. Let us first look at what we fear, then why we fear, before we figure out the how. Because how is important, that's how we move on. Perhaps of far greater importance, too, is who. Not who I fear, but who I fear for. Someone who's worth being frightened for! Then everything else makes a sudden, sort of sense.

And isn't that, kinda, what we've been looking for all this while?