Oh, these words drip from my tongue, and they matter not but to me; some words feel insubstantial, as if they hold no depth to my eyes, but the feelings from which they emerge allow them to live as a true article of my mind. I was once afraid to let my thoughts escape, paralysed by the thought that they would be left misunderstood--but to let them free, even in such a diminutive isomorphism, of a single interpretation, of a captured amalgam of feeling, just at this moment in time--oh, but it feels beautiful, without a doubt. And only I will ever understand those words, and that is precisely why I must write them.