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screaming (and mask)

For the enactment of my mask, I wrote this all over my body. I was totally silent. I danced slowly letting them read it all aloud:

So many fucking words! But the way I have written myself so far has stopped working. I need to try again. My mom has said that, when I was a baby, I screamed until I could talk. But now these words---my words, their words---are written on me. I did learn to speak, but I didn't talk much. And there have been times where I have gone entirely silent.
It has always been about communication, though. Even the silence---communicating at what is sayable and what is not. Trying to find a way that whatever it is I know can come through to this world. But, each time I have learned to talk, I start screaming again. Always looking for the next language for where the one I have now is failing. It is an evolution in clarity---because something is clear. However, it still looks like screaming and feels like it too.
And so maybe I have written myself into a hole again. Believed too long in a form that can now only speak to itself. And maybe I have kept speaking a word long after it’s lost it's meaning just because I like the feel of it on my tongue.
And maybe this sentence is a lifetime. And maybe it's only a day. But if I could talk to you now, I would speak like liquid. In words like a river that you could only feel rushing past. I would sing to you songs that we both have forgotten until a great wave rises up from inside you and tears us both down.


yer scarin' me.

why? Thats the most positive thing I've written on here for weeks.

some things hit me that way.

like an iron fist in a velvet glove.

yeah, I know what you mean. it's like being in a situation where you feel that no one is saying anything. so you're not sure if you should say anything. but then you decide to, and it comes out as screaming. because you thought about it for so long, it's all built up inside. then you say something, and you realize that the other people were saying something, they just weren't screaming.

Sometimes words are the last resort. Maybe sometimes we wait too long. And, maybe, when we finally say them, they're holding all our hope, and the words could never do all that we're asking them to.

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