Words.

Someone once wrote me a letter with some pretty eye opening knowledge inside. This person who wrote this letter to me...I've never met, I've never actually spoken to him, I don't know if I have the interest in ever doing either...but hes someone who's words I hold onto...like when you are little...and your parents...you don't know any better...so you admire everything they've got to say to you. You cherish your time, and the moments...that's how this is. My interaction with this person is very limited. Very new to me. Very strange and questionable to me. But he writes me letters. From these letters, I try to take whatever information or wisdom I can from him, since I have missed out on so much.

I would never tell him of course...that it feels like I've missed out on so much. In fact, if he appeared before me right now, I'd probably punch him in his face and walk away. But once he was out of my view, I'd more than likely break down and cry. Miranda does not cry.

Anyways...he told me this...

"To me- words are one of the finest things I own, and I respect".



With that one sentence, out of the thousand sentences he wrote in his first letter to me...it kind of cleared a little up for me. It made sense to me.

So, when you are speaking to me, and I tell you not to say certain things to me, because it will make you seem weak, or dumb, don't listen to me. Those are your words, only you  choose to use them or not.