I have never been an eloquent speaker. Quite the opposite, actually. For as long as I can remember, I have always struggled to get the thoughts in my head out through my mouth to properly form the ideas that I want to convey. I've often said, to numerous people, "It's all in my head, but it won't come out."
Within the confines of my thoughts, I am well-spoken. I know exactly what I mean, and exactly what it is that I want to express. The thing is though, I am a concept-thinker. I do not usually think in words, exactly, but in images and abstract ideas. This does not always translate well from my mind to my mouth. Therefore, when I try to articulate what's going on inside, it often comes out jumbled. The things that I want to say do not always stay in the right order, leaving the one with whom I'm conversing trying to assemble the pieces. I don't mean it to come out like that, but the way I see things in my mind is probably not arranged in a way that would make sense to anyone but me. This makes it very frustrating when I want to express myself in spoken word.
Because of this, I have a love for writing. I discovered a passion for it in middle school, when I was forced to take an introduction to formal writing class. I was sure that I was going to hate it. Instead, I found that when I put my pen to the paper, the words flowed onto the page with a fluency that I had never been able to accomplish when speaking out loud. It excited me, and I longed to write more and more. Suddenly, the words that I had felt were trapped inside my head were free to be expressed.
I didn't merely enjoy writing, I showed notable ability in my essays. For once, I felt like I had a natural talent for something. Of course, my skills still needed honing, but it was plain to see that I would one day write with finesse. I delighted in the ease in which the right words came to mind as I composed a paper. For once, I felt like I was able to get my thoughts across clearly. Finally, I was able to liberate the thoughts in my head, without the clumsiness I had felt before. It was one of the most wonderful discoveries of my life.
It wasn't long before I knew that I did not want to write merely for my teachers. I wanted to express my thoughts to anyone who would read it. I wanted to write on all sorts of things. Finally, I felt as if I had something worth saying. And I no longer lacked the capacity to say it.
The art of the written word is a beautiful thing. As a writer, I have the capability to illustrate a scene, an idea, just as well as an artist does with her paints. It's an amazing feeling. When I write, I have a sense of belonging. I belong to my words, and they belong to me; and when I write, I give them to others. They flow onto the page, waiting to be read, waiting to be experienced. I am no longer trapped, no longer limited. I am free.
Writing is the painting of the voice.
— Voltaire
