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Rated: · Poetry · Self Help · #1773553
I figured out I don't have a voice of my own.
I sit here on the verge of tears as the wrods that he's spoken ring through my brain.
I view other peoples voices as if they are completely different books.
That the words they speak are painted with an artists' brush that float through the wind.
But mine, there is nothing there.
How when I speak my words hit a bubble, which in turn causes my words to form into a whisper.
How many people do you know that are truely afraid of their own voice?
To even speak up in public.
I am one of those people.
I am so afraid of the words that will escape from my mouth.
The way people will view me as soon as they leave from my lips.
The way people will look at me and wonder if there is something wrong with me.
Yet, I know there is something wrong with me.
I stutter when I speak.
I can't get words out correctly.
But give me a computer, or a pen and paper and the sentences I can come up with are flawless.
Is that who I am?
The girl that will forever be able to only speak in writing.
If so many I shall replace my voice with a book.
How have I gotten to the point in my life that I can't even speak?
I start to blame her.
That she has treated me with such a view that I can not fend for myself that the voice I hear is hers.
I'm not me.
I am the image she created for herself and she is living through me.
But, after almost twenty years how do you get that back?
© Copyright 2011 Courtney (newmoonrises at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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