Words on Mute

I have always believed in the power of words. Literature, words, fragments, sentences. No matter what language they’re in, they hold power. With the stroke of a pen,I had argued, the writer takes the reader from a mortal, simplistic world to an elaborate wonderland. Words-a magician’s wand, a king’s bright scepter.

But today, I disagree. Not words but thoughts. Because I can only write words, I lack the ability to speak. Thoughts hold that silent power. I want to yell this out, scream at those deaf ears but my words stop in my throat. Silenced, as though by the bristle of a gun. I am the gun and I am the victim. I am my own worst enemy. I lack the power of words.

Friends and Ships

“Are you mad at her?”

I gave him a look, “yes, I am. How did you know?”
I hadn’t made it THAT explicit. I had dropped very few hints.

“We were talking about it yesterday. Why?” he asked again.

The Value of Loss

Yet another funeral song is in the air. This time, a young man; barely finished with youth and just beginning  adulthood. 22. So young and yet so old. Cancer, they said; I had learned about cancer in Anatomy. Uncontrolled mitosis when blah blah and blah. But cramming for the test was one thing, losing a life was another. One day, he was just a regular 20’s guy, having fun and skipping lectures. And the next, he was diagnosed. So randomly. He went through chemotherapy, suffered a stroke but the last I heard he was doing much better. Perhaps this is a form of “better” too.

I’ve only met him twice. For some reason, I have always been spared this feeling of loss. I am sad that he died, of course, but not devastated. I tried to cry but couldn’t. A stranger among many. How can I be devastated at his death?