My Voice.

Are words the silent scream,

off a voice that wishes to find the courage to speak?


Communication. A simple word with a complex system.

Words. Thoughts. Ideas. Beliefs.

Spoken. Written. Illustrated. Alluded. Dreamed.


Our world rests on our ability to “communicate” our ideas and beliefs with all those around us. More ink is spilled on articulating what it means to articulate than perhaps on content that needs to be articulated.

What a peculiar feature of connection this seems to be?

Using words as a bridge between my version and your version of reality?


I’ve always been fond of writing, and today I ask myself why?

And the answer that comes to the tip of my tongue before I can even finish the question is that it’s “easier”.

But in what regard?

For one, it’s easier to “narrate” what I am thinking, or what I believe, when I can use the additional time granted in “written communication,” and of which I am deprived when using my voice. Hence the shadowy presence of silence that follows me in difficult conversations.

For another, there isn’t anyone to challenge what I have to say – in the process of me saying it – which makes the task of sharing a bit less scary.

Lastly, there is no fear or anxiety which often ensues when we find ourselves in the middle of controversial conversations in which it is much easier to faux pas – what we do not mean as a representation of our reality.

In this regard, writing is the perfect medium of expression – at least for me.

And yet, I wonder – how much is writing just a preference —to hide?

Behind the silky veil of jet-black ink –the first love of my mind?


Perhaps this is why I seek now,

courageously,

to explore what it is like

to use my voice.

To speak up,

and out loud.

I wonder by doing so,

what will I find?

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