El horror de las palabras.

The words represent an unspeakable horror (there were a lot of puns in that phrase). Lately, words don't heed my command. Every thing I try to write or speak becomes gibberish or a horrible mockery of what I sought to express. All my interior world (another phrase that I'm not fond of) remains trapped, as the infidelity of written and spoken language hacks through the very essence of it.

So, a problem of expression ensues. The possibility to communicate in a fluid, concise, and asertive way is hindered. The words simply cannot hold the being of the ideas and the feelings. Their simbolism is getting too limited, at least in my case. Words like despair, anxiety, unrequited, love, confusion, are just provisional labels. But, what could be the definite phase? As i said before, making up words is out of the boundaries of the languagues I supposedly command, and also beyond my intellectual and cultural skills. Nor I am some sort of Tolkien to create a whole language ex nihilo (as you can see, this use of a dead language was just a showy device).

Even if I say something over and over, the words appear mute. The feeling continue trapped. Reality is still there, impassable, behind a barrier that I can only scratch a bit. The words are horror because they cannot hold reality. They just aim at it, with more or less accuracy and success.

And in my present situation. Well, that's just another worry.