I don't speak in a way that others understand.
My words make sense to me, but no one else.
When I try to speak up, I'm told to be quiet.
When I'm quiet, I'm told to speak up.
But when I speak, the words are not the same as they are in my head.
There are things that I don't have words for.
But those are the things that people want me to talk about.
They want me to talk about how I feel, and why I'm feeling it.
They want me to talk about what things mean to me.
They want me to talk about fears and comforts.
They want me to talk about what I like, and what I don't like, and why.
These aren't things that words can describe.
They're concepts and feelings, ever elusive.
They have no
They have no words.