Voice                                                                                                  

            Do you feel as I feel? The utter despair and frustration when you realize, that it isn’t good enough? That one moment where you have to start from scratch because you’ve forgotten something vastly important? I think you do, and I envision the expression on your face, dull and bleak, devoid of all emotion but anger. Do you not realize what I am talking about? I am trying to convey my thoughts through the limited medium of literature. “A picture is worth a thousand words”, but in my mind, a word is worth a thousand pictures. Everyone thinks differently, reacts differently to different words.

            This is one of those moments. I start again on the story, knowing that I can’t produce anything as good as what the standard is. But I still try, hoping to find something within the enormous resource that is my mind. I take a deep breath, and then dive again. Into that which is black and eternal, colorful and limited, all at the same time. It makes sense to me, but when I try to describe what I am thinking, what thought currently occupies the limited space of my consciousness, I fail. And over the years, I just decided to give up.

             It is limited, and while some may compare me to someone who has no hands, due to a horrific accident in a factory, I feel differently. Just as the blind, the old and the injured make their way through life, I blaze a burning trail through mine. The ignorance and arrogance of people astound me. They believe that because I am mute, I am dumb. That they can try to exploit me, because I don’t understand the fine print, or remember a conversation from a few days ago.