If I Had Words . . .

I could tear open my bosom with vexation to think how little we are capable of influencing the feelings of each other. No one can communicate to me those sensations of love, joy, rapture, and delight which I do not naturally possess; and, though my heart may glow with the most lively affection, I cannot make the happiness of one in whom the same warmth is not inherent.
-The Sorrows of Young Werther, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Theme of this week: Wishing I knew exactly what to say (or how to say it) to make everything better. I pride myself on being good at both expressing feeling in writing and empathizing, but there are limits to empathy and some things you just can't do with words, like pose to have an inkling of understanding of trauma of the likes you have never been through, make someone realize something they could see from the outside if they weren't so mired within, or inspire belief in an ideal one has never had a mind or heart open enough to even comprehend.

I finished my letters to go with my socks, but I still feel useless, and that's definitely not the first time this week. I'm glad I still haven't lost the will to try, though.

If I Had Words . . .

I could tear open my bosom with vexation to think how little we are capable of influencing the feelings of each other. No one can communicate to me those sensations of love, joy, rapture, and delight which I do not naturally possess; and, though my heart may glow with the most lively affection, I cannot make the happiness of one in whom the same warmth is not inherent.
-The Sorrows of Young Werther, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Theme of this week: Wishing I knew exactly what to say (or how to say it) to make everything better. I pride myself on being good at both expressing feeling in writing and empathizing, but there are limits to empathy and some things you just can't do with words, like pose to have an inkling of understanding of trauma of the likes you have never been through, make someone realize something they could see from the outside if they weren't so mired within, or inspire belief in an ideal one has never had a mind or heart open enough to even comprehend.

I finished my letters to go with my socks, but I still feel useless, and that's definitely not the first time this week. I'm glad I still haven't lost the will to try, though.