“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o’er–fraught heart, and bids it break.”
Whispers the o’er–fraught heart, and bids it break.”
Macbeth (Act IV, Scene III)
Shakespeare was right of course. The moment you verbalize your sorrow, a burden is lifted and your heart is relieved. I’m not quite sure why it works like that. I guess when sorrow dwells in your heart’s depths it exists in a liquid form. You try to grasp it, if only to understand it, and it slips away; just like a dream. Maybe that’s why it’s so overwhelming; because it’s untouchable. However, once you capture it into words, it becomes solid and specific. You can point at it, hold it and remove it from inside. Of course once you bring it into the light and make it so tangible, you cannot really escape from it. It becomes a reality and you are obliged to deal with it. When in your heart you could ignore it and simply wallow in it. Once outside, though, you have to stare it in the eyes and, well, that’s a different type of overwhelming. Truth - truth is always overwhelming.
Shakespeare was right of course. The moment you verbalize your sorrow, a burden is lifted and your heart is relieved. I’m not quite sure why it works like that. I guess when sorrow dwells in your heart’s depths it exists in a liquid form. You try to grasp it, if only to understand it, and it slips away; just like a dream. Maybe that’s why it’s so overwhelming; because it’s untouchable. However, once you capture it into words, it becomes solid and specific. You can point at it, hold it and remove it from inside. Of course once you bring it into the light and make it so tangible, you cannot really escape from it. It becomes a reality and you are obliged to deal with it. When in your heart you could ignore it and simply wallow in it. Once outside, though, you have to stare it in the eyes and, well, that’s a different type of overwhelming. Truth - truth is always overwhelming.
