Here’s a few thoughts on why I appreciate words, as I wrote one night while procrastinating on writing an essay.

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Words

Writing papers is literally my least favourite thing to do, in all the history of ever. I would be tempted to say I hate doing it, not just dislike it.

{literally hate.}

That’s probably a good way to put it.  Yes I dislike it, but there’s more than that. Dread it? Despise it? Detest it? Loathe it? Certainly not love it.

It’s not even that I hate writing, because I don’t. I actually quite enjoy writing sometimes. I love a cleverly worded sentence that articulates the thought in a playful or thought-provoking way. There’s nothing better than the feeling when you arrange words in just the right way, when it finally clicks and you can put the period at the end of the phrase and feel proud of what you wrote. There’s nothing better than the feeling when you’re able to craft words in a way that helps someone understand something new, or maybe even something about themselves.

I think my enjoyment of writing stems from my enjoyment of reading. Whether it’s a book or a blog, I’m a sucker for a good story. A good, well-written story can capture my attention and take me to lands far away. It can take me to staggering heights, soaring with eagles or climbing snowy mountain peaks. It can take me to traverse a rocky trail overlooking a cliff, climb down into a dark valley, or explore a dark and misty forest. Even more than just taking me to these places, a good, well-written story can take me to and through their matching metaphorical emotions.  I can rejoice, I can mourn, and I can pensively explore parts of my soul that I’ve sometimes neglected for far too long.

I’m not sure whether all of this contributes to the reason why my primary love language is words, or if it all stems from that fact. Words are a powerful tool that can trigger an emotional response — positive or negative. Words are the first thing we all learn, but something that not many people take time to master. Words are what allows me to be me, and you to be you, us to be us, and them to be them. Without words we would have nearly no chance of relating to each other in a meaningful way; there just isn’t another way to share your soul with someone in the same way that you can through words.

So how, then, can I have such a profound, loving sentiment for words yet such a palliative, loathing sentiment for writing an essay?