There’s something about language. each word is merely a representation of a feeling. A feeling for which we have thousands of variations and one word to encompass it all. You could present a group of people with a string of words and they would all relate it to themselves therefore taking different things from it than their neighbor may. Most things are self-applicable. Its all we know so we can’t avoid it. I believe when we meet someone we get on well with it may be because we share similar understandings and have similar representative outputs to equivalent emotion and energy. Or something like that.
Writing is a form of self-analysis. I don’t often have conscious control over the product, but I read it back and analyze it in relation to my life and figure out what I’m dealing with. I don’t do so well getting myself across casually because I can’t consciously grasp the words to say what I mean. this itself is a stretch. But when I let the pen go without my mind buffering anything, my self finds its own way to use the English language, which may not be my choice expresser. Unfortunately, it is the verbal form I know best, ,thanks to circumstances of sperm and egg with me, this independent being, as a product in this particular culture which places emphasis on verbal communication. I cultivate any other means.
I believe 
Yes.