Take a look at the cover photo. This is the state that my mind lives in as an introvert: looking up to the sky, lost in my thoughts, contemplating the next words that will escape my mouth, like a prisoner breaking free from Alcatraz. These words are in my mind for some reason or another. They’ve done something to be placed in a world of high security, a place where escape is near impossible. They sit there for hours upon hours, days upon days, even weeks upon weeks, growing and developing into something that is yearning, pleading with God to just please, let me be free!
Let me see the light of day, taste the fresh air, hear the birds peeping at daybreak and the crickets chirping at nightfall, smell the roses planted in the garden, feel the warmth of the sun’s rays beating down on my pale, delicate skin. Dear God, let me be free!
But they’re not. The words are still stuck sitting in the cell they were placed in, trapped by the guards, with no escape to be found.
My mouth may be slightly open, ready for the words to run free, but my heart is saying “no, you must stay put where you are, where you belong.” There is no mind over matter when my heart has taken the wheel, driving too cautiously for my own good.
It’s moments like those when I wish my mind's filter could be lifted. Censoring every thought that comes through my head can become rather exhausting, especially when there is no room left. I have lips like Alcatraz — padlocked with no way to escape. If they attempt to escape, the words are caught, cuffed, and thrown back in the cell.
Looking at the photo, I see that introverted girl with lips like Alcatraz. On the inside, though, there is no such prison.
My extroverted side is a whole other person, looking up to the sky, lost in her thoughts, contemplating the next words that will run free from her lips like a gazelle on the open plains. The words spill out of her mouth easily, without any exerted effort. Ears perk up all around, listening to her as eagerly as a dog wishing for a treat. Words run rampant, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, just building up and becoming stronger with a God-given desire to just yell out, I am free!
I am free to see the light of day, taste the fresh air, hear the birds peeping at daybreak and the crickets chirping at nightfall, smell the roses planted in the garden, feel the warmth of the sun’s rays beating down on my pale, delicate skin. Dear God, thank you!
There is never a lag, never a stutter, never any hesitation. Her mouth and her heart are working in conjunction to share the essence of her soul with the rest of the world. There is no filter placed upon her lips; there is always room in her mind to be filled with magnificent ideas turned real. There is no cage of any sort to confine her.
“Everyone has their own ways of expression. I believe we all have a lot to say, but finding ways to say it is more than half the battle.”
-Criss Jami
I remember being told by my fourth grade writing teacher I was a great writer, and had so much potential in the writing field if I were to just apply myself. I did just that. I began writing silly little stories that at the time I believed to be masterpieces. I thought I was the best in the business and that if I sent my work to a publisher, it would be published on the spot. I got that idea from author Andrew Clements’ book The School Story. It's a story about a girl named Natalie Nelson who partners up with her best friend to get her book published by her mom's company. They both use pseudonyms to avoid revealing their true ages and identities. In the end, the book is published and their identities are revealed. I went on a rampant writing spree after reading it, thinking that if a 12-year-old girl could do it, why couldn’t I at the age of 10?
As a writer, I simply have a desire for my voice to be heard and my story to be told. I like my voice to be heard in a figurative sense, not a literal one. I like to share what I have to say in a medium that I know I can say it in. Ask me to verbally tell you this story, and you’re going to sit and stare at me wondering if I actually understood what the question was in the first place. I am an extreme introvert who desperately wants to let her extrovert side run free. That’s why I write. My stories, poems, and articles are the extroverted side of me. They allow me to scream all that I’ve been holding inside without actually having to say a single word out loud.
Even discussing what I write makes me cringe. You’re telling me that I have to talk about what I have purposely not talked about? Don’t get me wrong: I love the compliments and the praise I get from what I’ve written. It feels so good to know that others truly do appreciate what I have to say and actually want to read it. When asked why I wrote it or how I came up with my idea, I quickly respond in as little of an answer as possible and frantically change the subject. It’s just what I do and who I am.
Writing has given me an escape from the word jail my mind has built. It's the best way I know how to express myself — one of the only ways. For all of you out there who are struggling to unlock the cell in your mind that is holding those words hostage, use writing as the key to set them free. Put your thoughts on paper and believe me, you'll feel a whole lot better. You have a voice that deserves to be heard by all.