I'm having a hard time putting these thoughts into words. Words aren't my strength, I spend so much time molding and shaping my speech. Trying to find the right angles, trying to catch the light in just the right way. When some people talk their words twist and spiral around your throat, constricting the very air your breath. When some people talk, their words just float away and dissipate like smoke, When I talk my words collect in a thick cloud around my head. I add pieces here, pieces there. I fill in the blank places with stuffing and fluff. I speak in fog. Fighting the speech of smoke, the speech of rain, the speech of tear gas... We don't all speak the same language. I don't speak what makes sense to me. I'm no artist.
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