FicWad

Words have physical form in the space around me as I write. The smaller words sit lighter as a general rule, however some have impact beyond their diminutive stature. Larger words sit heavier in the cramped tight zone surrounding my place where I take pen to paper in the most virtual sense. I use words how I see them, and they take that form off the page. I write myself a comfy place, words I can relax in the company of and that I can share a happy thought with. I share my words with whoever they like, whoever may see them. They take the words and read them differently. Distorted and heavy, they pile around the space again, crushing me with intercommunicated messages meaning merry nothings to myself but much more to the masses who misread them. I cannot re-write what I wrote already, but all I write ahead will now follow the wrong tone, by no fault of my own, but purely by the inherently degenerative nature of language. Perhaps I will stick to speech. Intonation would tell you that was sarcasm. Or perhaps it would not.