I don’t have any words that ought to be said.
But, then again, I do.
We all do.
It’s just a matter of knowing how to speak them, or when to speak them.
The act of speaking, for some, comes naturally. It is an unforced process which they can transcribe thought into verbalization almost effortlessly, curling their tongues, pursing their lips, launching pitch-perfect syntax word after word.
For others, the act of speaking is an act of great difficulty, and bravery, in some cases.
As for myself, I don’t speak well. Hell, I’ve a hard enough time writing, getting right the written English language. But speaking requires, for me, much more effort than writing does. With writing, I have my own time to get it right.
When speaking, I’m on the time of others, struggling to get the words right, or even near to what they ought to be. At the age of 25, I’ve had some practice with the act of speaking, but my words don’t always fall to the ears of others in the manner that I intend them to do so.
More times than not, I stumble over words and the sentence collapses. All the meaning that was intended on being built up between each breath deflates and falls away. It’s discouraging. Often, I just wish to--and do, on occasion--exit the conversation. The energy put forth only to be lost isn’t worth it.
But I speak, if only because it is necessary, at times, or rude not to respond.
Here, in America, we’ve a tendency to have small talk. If driving someplace with another, rather than listen to music or remain quiet, we engage in the act of small talk for the sake of being comfortable. American’s, by and large, don’t appreciate silence shared between two people.
Why don’t we appreciate silence? Is there something so wrong with not speaking?
Of course, there is nothing wrong with those of us who do not wish to speak as often as expected. And there are those of us who, for the most part, don’t speak without a comfort zone or some sort of distance.
There will be days where a word as simple as “hello” feels like a jagged rock being pulled from your throat, and others where it will rush out with great energy and excitement.
The times when I remain quiet, it doesn’t mean that I have nothing to speak about. It simply means that I may not have the energy to speak, or the courage. That, perhaps, I value the quiet that dearly to where I wish not to disrupt it.
Generally speaking, there is a stigma that goes along with the quiet individual. From my personal experience over the years, I’ve been referred as the following: pretentious, arrogant, conceited, serious, boring, and an asshole.
Perhaps I am these aforementioned adjectives.
Or perhaps I value the time I spend inside my own head. Or the quiet that I find myself in at that given moment. Or I simply having nothing of significance to say.
Over the years, I find myself desiring not to waste my time and energy on that which doesn’t matter, that doesn’t forward my personal narrative in a positive way, if in any way at all.
And I believe that there are others, for their own reasons, remain quiet most of their days. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Yet, there is something important to note when going through life.
One must know when to speak.
One must know which words should be articulated and when they should be forced from your body, out into the world for another to hear.
Even if your voice is low and soft, untrained, or trembles and stutter, you must know how to speak. For it was the act of speak; having words swell within me, then finding the will to pull the jagged rocks from my throat, and hurl them at another, that potentially gave me another chance to move forward in life.
As I said, I don’t have words to speak.
But I did.
And, often, it’s best to say too much rather than too little.
