The Beauty of Words | Teen Ink

The Beauty of Words

September 26, 2023
By casparc BRONZE, Congers, New York
casparc BRONZE, Congers, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

When I was younger, there was this nurse at my great grandma’s nursing home, and she’d always ask me if I was going to be a doctor or a lawyer. Since I could start showing signs of it, I was labeled as intelligent. I’ve been called an old soul so many times, I think those words could age me. I’m not a scientist, though, or a mathematician, or a historian, or a composer- no, I consider myself a thinker. That leads me to being a writer.

The wars that cause one to be wise beyond their years are often forgotten- and that is why I write, to escape from that harsh reality. Cramps and blotches of ink in my hands are like the wrinkles of a weary old man, the crooked posture in our backs identical, as well as the memories of our countless hours spent in battle. Of course, no ‘good’ writer lives a perfectly ‘good’ life, and yes; the earthquakes of fear and doubt which cause shakes and rumbles to run down my spine are nothing when matched with a beautiful mural of colorful, intentional words, telling the stories of the things we dare not speak. Your words can take you into another world, a wonderful world, where stories and poetry and everything in between is reality rather than the constant dread you find yourself living in. When I write, I can make light of everything that has aged me. That is why I need it. Everyone needs light sometimes; writing gives me light, and it is something I can’t get by without. 

However, if I couldn’t write, my mind would be like a haunted house, and I’d be nothing but a ghost. Trapped, wailing, trying to project myself into a life I am not fit to live, because everything I know is everything I wish to forget- I’d just be constantly wishing to forget. How else would I block out the spiders crawling up the walls, phantoms singing in echoing choirs, or bodies of painful memories rotting in the corner without a space to write it out? My pen is my sword, my pen is my weapon. The words let me fight because if I write it then it can no longer hurt me- I’ve faced it and I’ve won.

A beautiful mind can be a terrible curse, so I write. The ability to do so is something I am not sure I could cope or even live without.



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.