Finding My Voice

"You come alive through your writing. But in person, you're just not that convincing."

These words from my friends do not come as a surprise.

Ever since the sixth grade, my journals have been my refuge from the cruel world. Whenever I felt as if I had no friends to confide in, I took comfort in writing. Without this escape from reality, I do not know how I would have gotten through the tough times in my life. But in some strange, twisted way, my attachment with my journals have created an unhealthy level of separation between myself and the way that I communicate.

It's always been a struggle for me to express how I feel through speech. Oftentimes, the message I'm trying to send is misconstrued because I'm more likely to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind rather than thinking about an appropriate response. Because I'm not as fast and witty of a thinker as I'd like to be, I require a few extra moments in order to gather my thoughts. With a journal, this is perfectly possible. Face to face, however, I'm sure that my silence just makes me seem slow.

I envy those that can speak with poignant clarity and authority because of my current inability to demonstrate these qualities. Though I'm told that my voice lacks precision and confidence, I'm sure that eventually, I will be able to speak with conviction.