Me at age 3.
This is what happens when something needs to be said and words fail. And something must be said. Soon. I know who needs to hear it, but I don't know how to say it. And trying to figure it out ruins my days and my life. But it is too loud in here to concentrate. "Shhhhh," I say and, "Shhhhh!" But the boy won't shut up and listen to me. And with all of his noise, I can't think. And if I can't think, I can't figure out what to say and get on with my life. And I really want to get on with my life. I do. First something must be said. But I am at a loss for words. This frightening, screeching, furious boy is what happens to me when I am at a loss for words. Life is dangerous without the camouflage of language. So I must teach the screaming boy inside me what to say. Soon. I must concentrate. I must. "Shhhhh," I say.