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A dug ditch.

Posted 10th January 2012 at 19:43 by Matt_1983
Updated 10th January 2012 at 19:47 by Matt_1983 (dcdcd)

I search for an answer, words pop up and pass through my brain, assesed for worthiness, rejected again. I panic slightly as the seconds tick and my mouth remains shut and my dry fake smile wobbles. My lovely work colleague Paul, stood by my side all smiles and inoccent chat, awaits a response to his story about the ditch he dug at the weekend, in the path behind his shed. I scream inside my head and beg for words, any words, to drop from my lazy lips and pop the sense of awkwardness that builds around my mass. Nothing comes but a nose snort and a "hmm". My eyebrows raise, yet fail in their valiant attempt to express themselves on my voices behalf. Paul, lovely man that he is, is seemingly oblivious to the scene of hell now burning in my mind, where self hatred and doubt dance their jig atop my self esteem. Humiliation and frustration rise and sing, familiar foes back again, always on stanby to hit me when im down. I look at Paul in awe, and imagine a life where moments like this were nothing but a man telling his colleague about a ditch he'd dug that weekend.

There are moments in my life where i cant speak. I seem to freeze in terror at the idea of verbal expression, i panic and slam shut the connection from brain to mouth. Inside im screaming, begging for the words to come, pleading with myself to say something, anything, just to cut through the air of awkwardness my silence will create. But nothing comes, the chance has passed and ive shown myself up yet again. Another persons learned the hard way not to engage with me. Unless youre very lucky i wont chat back, and no one likes that, their words hung out to dry as inside i panic and cry.

I cant think of many things more humiliating than the moment when yet another person reaches the realisation that i am unable to chat. Such a basic human skill just seems to ease from the mouths of the masses, yet folk like me spend years and lifetimes searching for a way to join their vocal play. To not be able to join in can be soul destroying.
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Comments

  1. Old Comment
    Belinda's Avatar
    Great metaphor about waiting for the words to come and 'pop the sense of awkwardness that builds around my mass.' You've got a talent for writing. I can relate to what you say only too well.
    Posted 10th January 2012 at 21:04 by Belinda Belinda is offline
  2. Old Comment
    Matt_1983's Avatar
    Thanks a lot . . . always surprises me when i get comments on these, good to know people actually read them.
    Posted 10th January 2012 at 21:28 by Matt_1983 Matt_1983 is offline
  3. Old Comment
    I am useless at talking to. But I work in a bookies which is quite a male environment at times- and notice some guys they don't necessarily respond to a guy talking back- they just sort of listen.
    Posted 11th January 2012 at 23:01 by Mr_Bean Mr_Bean is offline
  4. Old Comment
    I get this too, my brain seems to forget every word in the english language meaning I come across as a creepy-creeper-son!
    Stoopid SA riddled mind.

    You're a great writer though
    Posted 1st February 2012 at 20:01 by Trixie26 Trixie26 is offline
  5. Old Comment
    Matt_1983's Avatar
    Quote:
    Originally Posted by Trixie26 View Comment
    I get this too, my brain seems to forget every word in the english language meaning I come across as a creepy-creeper-son!
    Stoopid SA riddled mind.

    You're a great writer though
    Thanks
    Posted 6th February 2012 at 15:43 by Matt_1983 Matt_1983 is offline
 

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