The Beehive of the Quiet Ones

Writing is like bleeding but less melodramatic.

Less messy, too.

I can feel it at my fingertips, all the words that don't quite fit in my mouth. I stumble and fumbled and pop and I hope it isn't just me. If this was the beginning of a book I'll never write, it would be about a girl with words bouncing around in her head. Like I swallowed a beehive.

I've got this itch at the base of my ribs. Maybe I should open my mouth and let those words buzz about in the air.

We'd just end up getting stung.

My most spoken words: "I read somewhere that..."

But does writing and reading dilute those raw truths or sharpen them?

That feels quite important to know. Reading is rather like looking through a paper veil, and, the better the words, the thinner the veil into the colorful world beyond. Is the truth better with or without the veil?

Or maybe this isn't even worth thinking about, and I'm just crazy. As a kid, I believed that if I thought hard enough, I could make things happen. Superstition, I guess. Eyes screwed shut, whispering meaningless nothings to make my favorite episode play on the scratchy TV with antennas. Sitting on the carpet watching dust particles in the air. Just think hard enough to make them drift in circles. Focus on the ball and make it roll. Throw the plastic coin and make it chocolate. Talk to the bird and make it coo. Concentrate.

But thoughts don't have any power. They don't do anything but take up space and gather dust on the bookshelf. Got to blow off the cover. Open my mouth.

Uncap my pen.

I have a favorite pen I managed to keep all semester. Black ink. Flows beautifully and makes my handwriting look halfway alright.

How ironic. A writer and an artist with embarrassingly filthy handwriting. Can't even blame it on my being left handed because my brother isn't, and he's just as bad.

But I digress.

While an eloquent speaker may lay a spell on the audience, it is the writer who will lay an enchantment on generations upon generations. Writing and speaking are at least equal with this in mind.

So maybe it doesn't matter if I don't speak like I wish I could.

Because I can write.

And that is more than enough.