voice box

I’m having trouble sleeping from a few words my sister said to me so I’ll just write until I can sleep.

It’s a little sad isn’t it? You’re feeling some ways sad, or maybe a lot of ways.

The way you speak, your words, you–it’s just all too much. It’s hateful. Introversion? Not even close. Says her. Says he. Says them. Because she’s-he’s-they’re the one who decides who you are, isn’t that right?


You’ve drilled the words over and over haven’t you, the little rhyme with the sticks and stones? It’s rough, isn’t it? Aren’t you tired?

You’ve stopped liking how you talk, how words rise and run, how you’re you. 

Why is that?


You hold too much weight in the words of others, too much weight over your own, too much so that you are held down, so much that you hold yourself at a distance.

It shouldn’t be this way.

The way you talk is odd, overwhelming to some (or a lot) but it’s got its own charm to it, an excitability, an energy. The way words stumble in the run, hopping at intervals and sprinting at some, it’s a runaway symphony. The words are simple, honest. And you. Well, you’re still growing aren’t you? You’re still learning aren’t you? 

So don’t be so hard on yourself.

You’re doing okay.

I like listening to your voice, so let’s keep this melody running.


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