Language my dear,
We have been living with each other for so long and you are a huge part of my life. I learn about the world thanks to you and you exist because I exist. You are my companion, my husband, my wife, my teacher, my child.
Because you are my teacher I take you for granted. Because you are my child I raise you unconsciously.
You are weird. You live under so many forms. I first saw you as fragmented pieces. You are concepts, ideas. I pick them up and put them together to create a new you. You are a sentence, a proposition. And then after that, you grow up to become stronger, more powerful. You are huge, muscular. You are not a piece anymore. You are a solid paragraph, an argumentative essay, a persuasive speech.
You and I are parallel. We are parallel because I just have to look into you as if you were a mirror that reflects me. People look at you and see who I am, even though that is unfair because they don’t see you all the time. They don’t see the invisible you, the gray you, the dark you, the sad you, the suffered you. They only see the lovely you, or worse, they only see you the way they want to see you.
Sometimes, you are so passionate and wild that you come out as hurting people, unintentionally of course. But in contrast, there are times you are just so submissive and vulnerable that you shut yourself up inside me, not deciding to even utter a word. Well, for occasions like that, you make me feel suffocated. You are terrified and you make me terrified too. So selfish of you.
What makes you, my courageous and undaunted person recoil in horror? Can I make a guess? Is that because of other languages? Are they so ugly and cruel that they hurt you? Is it because they live in different human bodies, so they don’t understand you and hurt you? There are so many nights that I peek at the little you who is covering your face with uncontrollable tears because you are confused about how to express yourself. Other languages tell you that you need to be perfect but your soul is a mess.
One day, you shared with me a vague secret. You said, “The older the language is, the more solid it is and therefore, the harder it is to change. And if that old language is ugly, you are unlucky today. Maybe, you just want to stay away from it.”
But the word “want” doesn’t really live much in the real world. I mean, we can all say that word multiple times because I bet you and I need the word “want” really often in our lives. Yet again, if all the word “wants” come into existence and reality, our world will become disordered.
You and I are not the same thing. We are only identical and that’s it. So can you do me a favor? Can you give me strength? I am tired of being scared. Can you not run away from me when I need you most, can you be with me when I need consolation, can you talk to me as often as I want to talk to you?
No, that is so selfish of me. I can’t so how am I supposed to make you do that?
Oh dear, I don’t know what to do. We are so messy, buddy.