Words, the foundation of my reality.

The great late George Carlin once said.


"When it comes to changing the language, I think they make some good points. Because we do think in language. And so the quality of our thoughts and ideas can only be as good as the quality of our language."

His mastery of language and words has been an inspiration since I first stumbled upon him.

The art of weaving words into a web of pure divinity always made me shiver.

Words either spoken or written are weapons of the highest calibre.

They make your emotions rush, your mind wonder, your heart race in your chest. They turn frowns to smiles, they comfort, they make a difference.

When they say more than words, it' just a statement of a limit that shouldn't exist.

Words are important, they convey meaning, they state purpose they enlighten.

I can't remember when my passion for words began, I can't remember when I first picked up a pen to strike the paper with my raw emotions, I can't recall the first time I flushed all of my soul into a tiny piece of paper.

But I did.

I did write, I did open my chest and spilled my feelings on white with ink. sometimes with laughter, sometimes with tears.

Writing made me sane again.

It's the only way I could and can cope, it's the only way I could and can express all that bare and naked part of me that keeps boiling inside.

But I know, my words are still not enough, they are still incomplete.

With every attempt my frustration diminishes, with every type my limit widens, the formula becomes clearer, becomes easier.

I learn when I weave strings of letters, I evolve just as much as my writing every moment I transform my thoughts and ideas into readable code.

For me writing, and pretty much everything else in my life, has to be fully understood. Once I can de-construct and reverse engineer something, expose the cogs and wheels that make it work, I can then create it from scratch, improve what was before, or simply understand it's beauty and mastery.

Writing has taught me so many important lessons, it has allowed me to understand so many masterpieces, so many strokes of geniality, not only in other texts, everywhere. Writing, and reading, made me who I am today. Ad even though if I can't really pinpoint the first text I wrote on my own volition I remember fondly, being maybe ten or eleven years old, the time when I picked up my first master piece, the first book I read that made my mind explode with thought and my chest burst with anxiety. Anxiety to get to that next page, to get to that next chapter.

The book was twenty thousand leagues under the sea by Jules Verne in case you're wondering

So with my writing I evolved as a person, and now I start to understand  the words that compose the foundation of our reality.

So I want to dedicate this text to all of those that helped my passion develop. This is for the ones who made those words and to the ones who are still doing them. The words that blew my mind away. Some when I first read them, some that took me several attempts to finally fully understand what I was reading.

So thank you, I bow to your mastery, now watch me develop mine.