Written 3/17
I am tired of being talked over.
I'm a person, and as such I have a right to express myself. I have as many thoughts and feelings as you do. I recite them in my head, prune and perfect, until I have something to say. It's an important something. I raise it to my lips and wait for the moment to send it into being.
But my moment never arrives. There is no half-second of silence for me to speak in. I am too polite to cut someone off, because what if they spent the time I did creating what they had to say, and I interrupt them saying it? My words wait. They try to hide their disappointment.
Sometimes someone notices and saves me. I am grateful for those times.
But on the other hand, I want to speak without feeling like the whole world hinges on what I have to say. I don't like the stares and focus and silence after I've finally managed to get everyone else to shut up. I search for what I had to say, and the perfection slips through my fingers. What makes it into the world is a slim shadow of my ideas. I had my chance, and then it ended, and I am left wordless.
