Expressing Myself.

I advanced to state finals in the spelling bee as a child. I learned how to spell words--but I wasn't as good, as speaking them aloud. Frankly, my voice frightened me--I could be sweet, sarcastic, or raspy. My voice was, and always has been, frighteningly inconstant, rising, falling, pausing--going into a velvety legato if well rehearsed, then, going into a frighteningly falsetto staccato when nervous. If my voice were music, it would be hell to compose.
The tone graphs, the stress symbols.... I'd much rather type these words onto paper. I love the gentle, soothing, rain-like pitter-patter of my fingers, on the keyboard. It's sweeter, to me, than the honey-tinged dulcet tone of any voice actress. There are few pauses, everything is read fluidly, up until the end. You can give people their own voices..... Who's to say that every word coming from every different user has the same computerized tones? I give them my own voices, from my vast expanses of creativity.
Oddly, because I speak less, I type more, I write more. I express these words, these emotions, bottled inside me with more enthusiasm, as I have the capability to voice what my heart feels, every tinge and twist, every burst of emotion, every facet of my being--without the most diminutive of movement from my lips, or even mustering a squeak.
You see.... I've grown to feel... so strongly about this that I... feel that speaking is now trite, and should only be done if and only if necessary. It's turned me into a mute--unless I'm obligated to be foolish, especially around those that I am comfortable around, or obligated to speak.
Fuzzies Fuzzies
61-65, M
Dec 13, 2012