There are some words I can’t say. No matter how hard I try—no matter who I’m talking to—they just don’t come out. There are words that I want to say that I can’t. There are words that I wish I could express in a gorgeous way full of imagery.

Like words about books. Joy, awe, and immersion aren’t good enough. They don’t explain how enraptured I get by the smell of new, or old, pages. They don’t explain the place my head goes to when I’m reading. They don’t cover the wide range of emotions that I feel from a single page.

I want to be able to explain why I love to read. I want to be able to explain the feeling I get when I start or end a book. Or the feelings in the middle. I want to explain why I struggle to put most books down, or why I am the most content when immersed in a book. But there are some words I can’t say.

 There are words I want to say about my best friend, because beautiful, kind, and amazing aren’t even the surface of things I want to say about her. I want to talk about how her smile brightens my day. Or how a notification from her never fails to make me grin. Or how I’m completely at ease whenever I’m with her.

But, those words don’t flow out like I want them to, and I will never be able to accurately describe everything she means to me. Because there are some words I can’t say.

There are words I want to say about the stars. Sparkly, bright, and hopeful aren’t the right words. They don’t capture the awe that I feel when I stare into a sky full of them. They don’t capture the hope that fills my heart at the possibilities. They don’t explain the extra beat of my heart from the happiness that the stars bring me.

I want to describe how free I feel when I can see the stars. How connected to nature I feel. I want to explain the complete serenity and joy I get when I’m surrounded by darkness with only the stars in the sky to light up the night. But, there are some words I can’t say, and words about the stars are among those.

There are words I want to say about the rain. Serene, emotional, and melancholy aren’t enough. They don’t describe the utter grayness that seems to envelop the world at the sudden drops. They don’t describe the peace I feel when I hear the constant tapping of the drops against my roof. They don’t touch on how rain makes me feel.

Words about rain don’t come to me. They don’t just write themselves onto a page. They write themselves into my heart and my soul only for me. I can’t get them out. They aren’t to be written anywhere but my heart and soul, because there are some words I can’t say.

There are words I can’t say because I don’t want to. Words that could possibly get me in a world of trouble. Words that are only for me. Words that I don’t wish would come out easily. I think my brain gets confused sometimes because I let out a lot of the words I don’t want to say and keep in all of the ones I do.

There are endless things I want to say. Things I can, and things I can’t. But, it’s easier for words to write themselves into my heart. It’s easier for them to stay inside rather than speak them out loud. No matter how much I want to, there are some words I can’t say.