Sometimes I imagine words as tiny Olympian divers. Diving off my lips into a pool of blah blah blah. Sometimes they march onto paper like a gaggle of geese in a neat and orderly fashion. Other times they are hard to control. For the record, I love words. But when I feel like I start to hate them, I try and beat them at their own game.
How to Kill a Word
First, think of a plan to get rid of them. Those WORDS, those sounds, those syllables. Letters strung together. Crawling up my throat like vomit.
Next, crumple them up and tear them to shreds. Annihilate the lyrics in music. Cross out the markings on warning signs. Slash the ingredients on candy wrappers. WORDS. They infest my body like a foreign disease.
Then, set them on fire. Watch them blaze and burn. Some WORDS are complex eyesores, impossible to pronounce. Some are too fancy, even for Shakespeare. Others are meant for crayons. Snap them in half.
Finally, throw them in the ocean. Let those WORDS become soggy and watch them drown. Swirling around my head like a vortex of pain. Stop haunting me.
A WORD is a WORD is a WORD is a WORD is a WORD. That’s all it is. A WORD.
The Duchess of New York