There are scenes and moments that live only in our memories.  I could say that to write them down is to lessen them, belittle them somehow, but that's not entirely accurate.  There are things that have no words to convey the moment, fleeting thoughts that simply do not allow themselves to be forced into phrases and cliches.

Sometimes these are stories.  They can be stories that we tell, but the gestures and body language allow them to be told.  When he spun off the cliff, to write that down would not convey the horror and ridiculousness that the rest of us experienced.  I can tell you and you might feel it, but to write it would ruin the story.

Sometimes these are moments, so brief that it would take more time to read or tell or write it down than the time it took to experience.  Those are private most of the time.  There is no way to effectively explain them.

Sometimes these are scenes that we act out between ourselves.  They hold no import to the world at large, but internally we recognize them as important or healing or emotional.  These are the treasures we keep in our hearts.  They cannot be shared, but on some level they already are.

I find myself plagued with things that cannot be written.  I know of only a handful of authors who can convey such things, but they are never true things.  They are only ever make-believe moments that remind us of the real moments we hold dear.

There are some things that cannot be written.

~FG };^>