I cannot understand our obsessive reliance on words to help us reach our final frontiers.
Words that we have habitually come to know shape shift into sentences that transform into paragraphs with claws to grow vicious chapters into stories with disastrous unhappy endings.
Disastrous endings that lead to heartbreak. Disastrous endings that lead to death. And yet we use them. We write them. We read them. We speak them. We listen to them.
Therefore, I will choose a different way. I will silently take my Charlie Chaplin chances at escaping the heartache and hell, and murmur to you no more.
If a miming human with a bowler hat and cane could mellow hell down to laughter for many, perhaps I, too, could grab a fresh chance at a happier ending.