words are nervous, gentle creatures who seek a vacant room; a quiet place where no uninvited guests linger. i suppose that’s why i could never find them when someone else was in the room. i’ve been calling words for months now, we used to be such close friends. we’d spend nights together the silence, due to the fact neither of us could speak without the other. words were there giving meaning to my actions, my actions giving meaning to them…they were there to help me to discover what i was feeling. but someone else has been spending the night and so when i pick up the phone, there is silence on the other end.but words have been hurtful to me, treacherous, and even cruel. a two faced friend with maleable intentions who gave way not only to the sweetest joys ever known but also to things i wish had never been describable. things like the feelings of jealousy, suspicion, discontent. displacement…. an endless list. if words hadn’t been there to show me what these things were, would they even exist? there have been so many nights i’ve wished them by my side, but commensurate times i have wished them away. but after all, a friend couldn’t be a friend if their presence was not equally as notable as their absence. if i’d known, i wouldn’t have taken them for granted. but isn’t that just the way?