I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Ever since I read The Raven Cycle and Maggie Stiefvater added a little description about Henry that said he Was somehow less when he spoke, that he was more in thought. That his language was thought and it always felt like he was less himself whenever he spoke because he had to somehow put into words the entire universe that was himself in his head into a couple of words.. Of course that something got lost in this process. He was less of himself. He had to decide what parts to use and what parts to keep inside. He was never truly himself.
And I feel that… But I feel it in another way. I feel like I am more when I speak and less when I write.
I can speak for hours on end about anything at all.
I’m one of those annoying people who love the sound of their own voice… Though not really because my voice is annoyingly high pitched.
I’m never honest when I write. I can always regret things. Correct. Hide.
I am less of myself but more of this creature that must be perfect at all times. The creature that is reliable.
I’m not reliable.
I’m always going in ten directions at the same time and I hardly ever arrive anywhere.
I’m a mess.
So I have to make myself smaller. Easier to hear and understand. I’m always lying when I write… Because I feel like I shouldn’t be anything else.
I rmemeber one time I used my real voice to wrote and someone told me it didn’t sound like me… That I was better.
I am really, really not.
I wish I could speak for days. And I wish I could scream for even longer.
I am so much more when I think and when I speak than what I am when I write.
And I’m a writer!
I’m a verified liar and no one cares!
I was born to lie my way through things.
I wish this post hadn’t been a mess but well… I just thought I’d share this.
I’ll probably talk about this again when I have more time.