bien dit: On Being Articulate

Being gifted in the art of speech is a strength I’m quite grateful to possess.

At home in language, I find joy in articulating myself in a cogent, thoughtful way.

There is security in knowing I can get my point across.

What comfort I find in carefully composed words is a trap in the worst moments, as I have set the expectation that I will not fail to be well-spoken.

Sometimes I wish no one else knew of this quality of mine. Sometimes I wish all that’s expected of me is unintelligible noise.

When emotion overwhelms me, I want to mumble ineptly- like a child that knows they’re feeling something, and has yet to develop the vocabulary to point and call it as it is.

Without wanting to appear an ingrate, I must admit that proficiency feels like a burden I cannot escape.

I find myself craving the simplicity of incoherence, wishing to retreat into a state of brazen, youthful, unapologetic existence, where I am allowed expression without the constraints of language.

With all this querulous yapping, I only imagine a world where my incongruity begets no consequences.

Perpetuating my own reason for complaint, I clarify now that I am loathe to be misunderstood.

Ultimately, I hope any wretched readers of this lamentation forgive my uncertainty if any of this is quite serious at all?

<3 i