By Ambria Richardson
There is a personal satisfaction In saying the word. When pronounced, one’s tongue lightly taps the soft palette. The abdomen moves towards the spine, as the diaphragm contracts sharply to push out a small puff of air with which to carry the singular syllable. And the lips come to rest, in an almost perfect circle. It is a powerful word. With it, one should have the complete capability to refuse anything. It gives one the illusion of control over their personhood. It is unfortunate though, because I started to forget one crucial piece of information: for any word to have meaning, there must be someone who listens.