Speaking More Words With My Fingers

"Speaking more words with my fingers" (author unknown)

It was the same street, the same smell from the bakery/coffee shop at the side of the park. I’ve walked on the pavement thousands of times, yet it doesn’t feel the same anymore as how it was when I was seventeen.

Maybe it was me who had changed. I’m no longer soft nor that I still believe that mere love would cure all sufferings in this world. Gone was the cheery girl who held hope and dreams in her heart, as the cold and more solitary girl took over the wheel.

It wasn’t always like this. Long ago, I viewed the world in a kaleidoscope of colours too as I wrote beautiful thoughts in my journals – yet life hurled lesson after lesson at me, some were sweet, most were made from stones and thorns.

So here I am. Speaking more words with my fingers than my tongue. At least I know now that even when the world has turned me voiceless, it could never render me wordless.

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