Somehow, my maker got things a little screwed up when creating my existence. It seems that my brain only works well to communicate my truest feelings when I’m writing them down. Nothing that comes out of my mouth is even slightly close to being a mirrored resemblance of what’s going through my head, especially under emotional duress. I’m literally physically unable to connect my thoughts to my tongue.
When I find myself among others conversing, I ramble on uselessly and off-topic, seemingly with incoherence of the proper social etiquette of conversation protocol. I find myself being open about private details with total strangers that leave us both feeling embarrassed for me, yet when I’m with someone I know very well and feel comfortable with in every other sense, I can’t open my mouth and speak a word. Not about things of great importance or of serious value to our relationship. No matter who it is I love- parent, friend, relative, lover, or spouse (but never those last two in the same realm)- I’m cursed from being open with verbal communication. All I end up doing is creating more trouble, more pain, more negative happenings in my life when I have to speak my way through something.
It’s the one thing defining thing about myself that I’ve battled coming to terms with my whole life. I’ve had to learn the hard way that when I stop the writing, my soul cannot find peace. Or joy. Or even experience love, actually. There’s no serendipity in my life without the flow of words through my finger tips. Like a magic doorway, the words coming through open up my soul to the world for their understand of just what exactly I’m trying to say without the spoken words destroying it all. I’m an author, a poet, a writer: born to put pen to paper, fingers to keys on a keyboard; letting the words coming out form my thoughts, opinions, perspectives, and beliefs, while telling the story of my life, sharing my deepest desires, and singing of my loves. I’m an open book, just as long as I’m the one writing it.