One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.

Simplicity is harder than it sounds

There's a strange pressure we put on ourselves to sound smart or impressive, especially when something matters. We pile on adjectives, reach for fancy vocabulary, construct elaborate sentences—convinced that complexity equals depth. But the opposite is often true. The clearest thoughts, the ones that actually land and stay with people, tend to be startlingly plain.

Kerouac's insight cuts against our instinct to complicate. He's describing that moment when you stop performing and just say what you mean. A friend tells you "I'm scared" instead of launching into psychological analysis. A parent says "I'm sorry" instead of explaining away their mistakes. A breakup conversation that finally works because someone just stops trying to be eloquent and gets honest. These simple words carry more weight precisely because they're not dressed up.

The twist is that finding the right simple words is often harder than sounding complicated. It requires knowing exactly what you actually think, stripping away the posturing, and trusting that directness won't diminish what you're trying to say. For writers, yes—but also for anyone who's ever struggled to tell someone something true. Simple isn't lazy. It's the hardest thing to get right.