My Meaning

I used to worry. This world is a sea of people, all of unique thought, perspective, peculiarities, all of unique heart, those places where words are from. And what if the words I think are made before, unoriginal, with a different propagator than I? My words would simply be crass, lacking the sparks of being first. It stops me from saying those simple phrases because I don’t want to waste those words in unoriginality. But now, I’ve changed. If my words, by workings of this immense, perpetual world, are somehow the same then it doesn’t matter. Even if it’s the simple phrases so common. For if my words come from my heart, and their meaning is original there, they will maintain their uniqueness of meaning to me, still special.