I didn’t imagine I’d have a day when there were too many words.
But they came in streams so thick and unintelligible that I nearly drowned.
Too many words. Too little communication.
They were heavy and nasty at times. Condescending and cruel at other times. Mostly, angry. So much anger, like a bombardment of a front line.
Even asking a question was taken as an offense, and the barrage continued.
Or the question was answered with verbiage and double-speak that was not an answer. Orwellian, but crisp.
When I tried to write, just ordinary sentences, the words came out clumsily, broken bricks from a sack.
I write in order to think. Putting words into order is a way to put my thoughts in order.
I don’t know why other people write. Maybe just to hear their heads roar.
The penny for today is deliberately blurred. It’s a 1984. George Orwell’s.