I write so as to simulate the potential of speaking out loud. I have silenced myself with words and hands and ink. What I love to do is less a passion and more an escape from the prison I’ve closed myself into.
When I fail myself and say not the words that come to mind in out loud moments, I sit down and write instead.
This is a freedom I exercise freely. Speech is too, but something reaches up and chokes my voice off from speaking my mind. And this is so far from who I am—this quiet unspoken thought. It comes from something like fear, but I haven’t been able to figure out what I fear.
I think a couple of the fears are of hurting someone else’s feelings and of remaining alone. A friend told me one time not to be afraid of losing something I don’t have. Good advice, but spoken by a man with a lady-friend.
Wisdom, I think, comes easy to those with tools of comfort in hand.
All the same, I am in hopes of losing this silence thing soon and very soon.

Prayers welcome.