Written Emotions

Written Emotions

By Amir Bagheri


“I’m not good with words” she said while sipping on her cup of coffee.

“Well I can’t read your mind either” I thought to myself.


“I’m not good with words”

What could she possibly mean? Does she mean anything at all?

Of course she was being humble about it. She was much better with words than I was. But why was she not good with words in that moment? Did it have anything to do with me?


Until that day, I had not met anyone like her. She was magic. Outspoken. Go-getter. Active. Beautiful. Motivated. But more importantly, well-spoken.

Yet, she was not good with words.


It is, without a doubt, natural to be attracted to someone’s physical beauty; and admire them from head to toes. But how shallow of me it would be to distract your thoughts, from her persona, by using words to describe her beauty.

All you need to know is that she is beautiful.

Her persona though, goddamn, is as deep as the ocean.


Do I know how to swim?



I doubt if I can swim.

Her depth is unknown and I like playing it safe.


“I’m not good with words” she said while sipping on her cup of coffee.

Déjà vu.



That’s what words are made of.


She’s not good with words.

Is she good with her emotions?


To be honest, I am not sure if I am good with my emotions either.

It is sad, but amusing at the same time.

How old am I? Five?

Why can’t I just tell her how I feel?



That’s how I feel.

Now isn’t that underwhelming?


I express my emotions with physical touch.

It is no wonder that every morning I want to kiss her hello; and kiss her to bed every night.

“I’m not good with words”

Well, fuck. Neither am I. Otherwise I would have told her that her persona excites me; and despite not knowing her depth, I am willing to swim.


She is an ocean.

She is not supposed to be still.

She moves.


“I’m not good with words” she said while sipping on her cup of coffee.

I remained silent; begging her to say more.

“The older I get, the more sensitive I become.” She continued.

“Actions speak louder than words, you know? So I say less and do more. It allows me to avoid unnecessary bullshit that comes from people”

I listened.


For the first time in my life, I listened more than I talked.

While I am proud of this, I somehow regret not talking.

But maybe that is what listening is all about. To swallow your own words and emotions, in order to understand and learn your fellow being.

Listening allows you to prioritise the other person over your ego, no matter how much you love yourself.


“We have two ears and one mouth, so we should listen more than we say.” ― Zeno of Citium


I have been swimming in her depth for a few years now. In her words, emotions, thoughts, and art.

She is everything that is beautiful.

She is the ocean.


“If the ocean can calm itself, so can you. We are both salt water mixed with air.” ― Nayyirah Waheed


The more I swam, the more I realised that I am not swimming.

I was the salt to her water.

But where was the air?


“I’m not good with words”

I wish she was.

Maybe “words” are the air to our salt water.


“It’s often just enough to be with someone. I don’t need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You’re not alone.”

― Marilyn Monroe


“Frustration motivates me.” She continued.

I smiled.

Maybe that’s what I needed. Frustration.

I was frustrated enough with emotions suffocating me.



When I am confused, I write my thoughts down.

Words are made of emotions.





written emotions.


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