Here We Are, Trapped In The Amber Of This Moment

“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them-words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too closely to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear.” – Stephen King

While working in Illinois for three days, a co-worker brought up a very intriguing observation during lunch. He remarked to my father that I was a nice boy but I didn’t talk much. Though working with men a considerable amount older than myself is a peculiar situation, it isn’t the reason for me being reserved in my speech. Even in a cast of colleagues and cohorts, I still have the tendency to remain timid. One could say that I suffer from a case of pride. Alternative theories could be that I’m partisan to the behavior of Silent Cal (Calvin Coolidge) or that I’m adhering to the advice that Mark Twain set forth: “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

In order to achieve simplicity, it would be easier to just say that I am engaged in the “sin” of envy. Every piece I have written seems to feature at least one quote attributed to someone else, or at the very minimum has stemmed from one. I’m envious of those who have wrote better than and before I. The quote I have used for this “entry” is for her. No one else. She is my secret that I am afraid to expose because I am terrified that no one would understand. The most important thing for me to say, just happens to be the hardest. Words have never been my strong point, and I don’t expect anything I try to get across to be regarded as a work of art.

Maybe one day I will be able to justly tell you how I feel. Without the use of another’s pen – without a quote that I find appropriate. The quote happens to have a dual purpose. It haunts me, the same that you do.

But it is also beautiful.
[I just want to hear your voice]