Words are art and emotions. Words are powerful. Even when they descend into hatred, words, whether directly or indirectly, have the power to combat evil. Words can patch the wounds that their distant, sour relatives created.
Words are meant to be shared, but they so rarely are.Â
How silly are we that we possess the means to tell others exactly how we feel but remain silent? Words are gifts meant to be given to loved ones and strangers. Words affirm love and cherished bonds.
How simple it is to utter “I am glad you exist,”; the purest sentiment there is, yet how often we neglect others, and our own, need for reassurance.
What is it that keeps us from the simple act of speaking? Is it fear of rejection? Embarrassment? Pride?Â
I’ve found that one of the greatest tragedies of youth is words left unsaid. The words, potent in your throat, strangling and bursting into oblivion—often waiting until the perfect moment. There is no perfect moment.
Whether it is anger or admiration or rejection, let it be spoken. Oh, if only it were that simple!
The fear of confrontation is applicable, keeping our true thoughts locked away in contempt. More often than not, I’ve found that the anger and regret of avoiding confrontation in relationships is more violent than confrontation. Honesty, even when it taints relationships, is love.
One of my favorite poems is “The Orange” by Wendy Cope. The poem is simple and illuminates the beauty and joy of the simplicity of life. It ends with a sentiment I have grown incredibly fond of that I have already mentioned: “I love you. I’m glad you exist.”
How beautiful is that? Pure love, rooted in the fact of existence.
This love isn’t reserved for friends and family. It’s also a sort of energetic bond felt between strangers—the girl who always has an insightful answer in your ethics class, the person who holds the door for you each morning, your professor who pours their heart into teaching.
This love is a type of admiration and appreciation that we often neglect. But in a society where loneliness is considered an epidemic, I don’t think we can afford to ignore these bonds.Â
I invite you to imagine how it would feel if we put all of these feelings into words.
“You always have the most profound responses. I always look forward to hearing your thoughts.”
“Thanks for always holding the door for me. I like knowing that you’ll be there.”
“Your passion is inspiring! I admire your knowledge, and we all appreciate you sharing it with us.”
How much better would we all be?
Think of all of the notes stuffed in your desk drawer or the song that you hum while getting ready in the morning. Think of the compliments that brought light to your darkest days. These are all love.
That joy and warmth are produced by words whose bestowers were brave enough to share them. It’s scary and vulnerable, but that’s love.
So, reader-Â I love you. I’m glad you exist.