Fifteen Years Later

I didn't always have a voice. I had a croak, a mumble, a gargle, a choking sound trying desparately to escape my throat. Words came easy, it was just the mechanical process of my lips and tongue coming together to produce a coherent thought that produced difficulty. Frustration billowed through me like a harsh wind right before a thunderstorm, and it ripped through my psyche rendering me speechless for 6 weeks. Words came easy, and they flowed through the pen with prestige. My heart skipped beats while my tongue laid on my upper lip in concentration. My brain could communicate thoughts from my head into the world to be shared with others, or just with myself. The pen held a power my mouth could never fully comprehend. Words come easy from my head through my larynix toppling out from behind my teeth with a new proficiency. Words swam out the tip of the pen and soaked into the paper and illustrated ideas like syncronized swimmers. Words came easy. It was the speaking that produced difficulty. The pen was my vice. It gave me confidence to share my thoughts verbally. I write for myself, to help myself help others. Words always came easy, and now so does coherance. "My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations" is now only a statement, not a fact of life. I used to tip and tumble around my speech, but now the words that always came easy also come easily out beyond the realms of my mind.


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