I Spoke Early

     I spoke early. Early and proper. At least that's what my parents would say if you asked them. Somewhere along the way from when I spoke my first words to when I began forming sentences, I developed a speech impediment. I began as a toddler who fluently spoke well above what was expected of me and ended up as a teenager who could barely say her name without stuttering. This would always lead to someone jokingly asking me, "Did you forget your name?' I'd always laugh at their attempt to joke, but inside it hurt to know that I was being ridiculed. The embarrassment that came along with a speech disorder never seemed to fade away. Every time I opened my mouth to speak my thoughts, I'd be reminded of all the previous failed attempts, and I'd force myself to remain quiet. I quickly became the kid in the class who never spoke a word. The teachers knew me as the student who always had good grades but refused to participant. Constantly, I would wish I could find the strength to overcome the impediment so that my thoughts and ideas could add to class discussion. However, my strength never seemed to outweigh my fears.
     To many, such a simple disorder as a speech impediment may not seem like a significant fault, but in a society ran by those with the strongest voices, it is easy to be forgotten among the sidelines. Human beings are social creatures by nature, and to lack such an important social skill such as communication can be detrimental to an individuals living experience. Speech is commonly overlooked and taken for granted. It's seen as something we tend to indulge in with each other to pass time. What people seem to forget is that speech is the backbone of our society. Through the development of speech, the passing of oral tradition, the creation of local vernacular and more, speech has been there to act as a driving force in the advancement of society. If not for speech, ideas could not be expressed from one mind to the rest of the world. This would lead to a huge gap in our growth as a species. To lack skill in such a fundamental aspect creates a sense of inferiority that I can personally say I have experienced.
      Speech has always been a challenge for me, but it was through this challenge that I found my passion. If not for the moments my cheeks burned red with embarrassment as my eyes bore into the ground or the days my stutter was so severe that silence was the only option, I don't think I would have turned to writing. Although my speech impediment made verbal communication difficult, I found another form of communication through written word. I am well aware that I will never be known to have a voice that flows like honey, and suppressing my speech impediment might not be completely possible, but writing has taken some of the pressure off of my shoulders. Just as communication is a driving force in the advancement of society, writing is a driving force behind my well being. It is my speech impediment that I have to thank for that.

For the Days I Don't Remember

My walls are lined with pictures of people whose names I barely remember, but I remember that moment we stood in front of a camera and smiled.

Every morning is the same. I'll wake up to a familiar smiling face, and wonder if the smiles we're genuine or whether it was just a habit that cameras tend to bring out.

Either way, I continue to rack my brain trying to hold on to the fleeting memories. The pictures are the only proof that the moments happened, and the smiles are comforting.

But in the back of my mind, I am painfully aware of the force behind the smiles and I know that behind all the comfort is nothing but false memories.

And now my walls are lined with false memories, and the photo albums in the corner seem useless.

Yet, I still find myself holding cameras close to my heart, because on the days I don't remember, the forced smiles are always there.

And a part of me still believes that forced smiles are better than none.

Excerpt From a Recent Essay

We’ve always longed for flight. It’s the one quality found in another creature that makes us green with envy. To soar the sky has always been an overwhelming desire, so we projected our yearning into the creation of fairies, angels, and superheroes all the while attempting to mimic their flight through synthetic wings made of aluminum and carbon fiber. However, our attempts were never enough. Wings, or lack there of, became a symbol of freedom that couldn’t be fully achieved in a human life. Our fascination with flight found its way into culture and embedded itself into the stories reserved for beings far superior than the average human. Culture coveted wings, turning to them in times of dire necessity as if they were the only things keeping the human race from the horrors of being earth-bound.

The Arrival of Summer; The Loss of My Nights

The arrival of summer brought about longer days
And, with it, a surge of life.
Shadows cast longer than ever before
Tempting me to hide.
The birds would soar and sing their songs
Making me envious of their flight
Over dandelions that grew wild and free
as, I wish, was I.

Starry nights were replaced with
A harsh, relentless sun.
Birds would soar through my dreams
Ending them before they begun.
Summer dreams, they're now called
As they've all become troublesome.
My only hope comes in the dawn,
When the moon is bound to come.

For it is then the moon rises
As the sun becomes weak.
Amidst the blue sky,
A faint outline is seen.
The craters add depth.
The white light shines beautifully.
It's no wonder the cosmic body
Is known to strike lunacy.

I must not forget that dandelions,
Are weak against the wind,
And those poor birds wings are limited
To this world we live in.
It is I who cast the shadows;
My silhouette that creates allure.
Summer days are long,
But it is the night that is longed for.