Sometimes, words fail. There is so much going on in your life; there is so much struggling in your mind; there is so much pain in your heart. But words fail. You feel flooded with emotions and you feel empty at the same time. The worst is you can’t share what you feel (or don’t feel). There are no words for it. Not a single word can justify the intensity of conflicting emotions that rule your life at this particular moment. No vocabulary is enough to translate the depth of your feelings into words.

You can’t express this exquisite pain of losing someone you love. You are not sure how to explain that long-brewing resentment towards everyone and no one. You don’t know how to describe bitterness, and envy, and grievance you feel. You fail to share happiness, and joy, and you keep your attachments to yourself.

You are all this and more. You feel nothing and you feel everything. You are different and you are the same. You are there and you are not. It is crowded but you feel fenced in. Nobody is around but you have a lot of conversations.

You are talking on and on for hours to imaginary people from your past, reliving the memories, fixing what has been broken, getting it right this time, and righting the wrongs.

You are rambling to peers from your present, complaining about life, comparing it with the past, promising that this time around you will do better because now you get it, now you know it, now you are smarter, and wiser, and you are a better person. But you are not. Not wiser, not smarter. Maybe a better person. But being good, being better doesn’t mean you won’t get burned time and again. If anything, being good puts you rather at greater risk. A risk of getting hurt. A risk of being abandoned. A risk of being taken for granted.

And finally, you talk to people from your future, asking them questions, giving yourself answers. You have a perfect picture of what future would look like. Sometimes you know the big picture, sometimes it is just small details that stand out. Like the pattern on the wallpapers in the bedroom of your new house, or the first step of your yet to be born child, or the sounds of the ocean on the last day of your life. You can see it, you can feel it, and you can hear it. You are there. But you are here, too.

And this confusion, this mixture of the past, the present and the future, make words fail. It goes away. Confusion? It goes away. Past regrets? They go away. Today’s complaints? Gone. Period. Future hopes? They are hopes – you keep them. But other than that, whatever you are feeling right here, right now, it goes away. And you go right back to square one: words fail.

How do you explain all this to someone? How do you tell anyone that you are talking to the ghosts of the past and it makes you feel good? How do you convey the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness? How do you share pain and grief? How do you put into words joys and laughs and memories? Why would you want to?

What I know is that one day, despite everything being wrong and the world being upside down for a long time, one fine sunny (or rainy) day the world will right itself again. And on that day you will write a story of how words once failed you and how people who you love and who love you, didn’t. Because those who really care don’t need words to know how you actually feel. And those who needed a translator for your thoughts and feelings are long gone. And it is better so. For you, for them, for everyone.