I told a lie last night.

I can't stand this. I am in torment. I can't interact with people without studying them so closely that they are sure to hurt me. I watch their bodies. Hands. Mouths. Eyes. I know what they're thinking.

I hold a little piece of my heart out to every person I speak to. I only want them to be pleased to have spoken to me.

My husband says I'm too open with people. He says that's why people think I'm weird.

I am tearful.

I am only a child.

At least once a month I decide that I will never speak again. To never hear my own voice again would be my greatest accomplishment.

I am re-imagining my life without my voice.
I am silent on my grandfather's home videos. I only point to the flower. I do not say "It's a hibiscus."
I never hold my sister by her shoulders and scream into her.
I never tell my mother that I love her.
I never sit on the front porch and cry out to God.

Everything that is good can be done without words--loving, eating, walking about with no guilt or shame...