How can I speak, if the words won’t come out? How can I call the world, when I cannot even shout? Such a difficulty has come to define me as a person, of whom has been unable to find his own voice; one that is not clouded with the opinions of the masses, or one that is meant to be of an ideologue, spouting off his own preconceived biases and notions and refusing to change his mind, even in spite of overwhelming evidence.
This dilemma has driven me to insanity over the last few months; as I find myself becoming so silent, that the noise which plagues my auditory senses infuriates me. It releases within me a primal urge to destroy and ravage everything in sight, so that someone — anyone, who can speak out on my behalf, can hear me and say something — even if it is only the word “stop.” What am I to do when nothing I say even makes any sense, or, if it did follow a line of logic, be drowned out in such a manner that it would equate to not having opened my mouth to begin with?
What is someone like me to do, but stay silent, and keep these horrid thoughts to fester inside me for as long as I live? How can I even be saved, if at all, if no one can hear my voice?
And so, that is the state of my life. I have so much to say, but I fear that it could be taken out of context, or not allowed by the right people, or even by those of whom I once considered family and friends. Who can I speak to, but myself? But then, what if the man inside me goes mad? Who can I speak to, but the hollow form of myself who is eternally sad?