writing skills // speaking skills

There have been so many times, when words just refuse to dislodge from my throat. like now. 

i cannot seem to pen them down, or speak them up, or do anything with them except swallowing them up, and filing yet another entry in my "will-say-later" list. i pride myself on being an excellent orator, and still fumble and stutter when i actually need it. i've been praised for my writing skills, and yet i am conjuring up this awkward written confession. my thoughts and musings are potpourri in the little kingdom of mritha bose, but are ashes and dust when i write them down. sometimes i really envy anne frank; how gratifying it must be to actually write silverine! my write-ups seem to be from someone faking maturity, wistfulness and intellect. 

an impostor, really. 

my pieces are inconsequential and in all honesty, make me want to overdose on painkillers. i write when im in throes of ecstasy, despondency or reflection. to be honest, i dont really know. but when i read back on what i wrote, im truly submerged in the throes of second-handed embarassment and the impending need to destroy every single piece of stationery i know. there are times when i wish i wasn't in love with literature so much; that would've made me study instead of typing away in this weird summer-autumn heat. 

im not usually in such a level of self-deprecation, dont know what came over me. maybe it is because im in this perpetual state of writer's block. maybe it is because i just don't dare (?) to lift my reynolds pen. maybe it's because that just for once, i want to be someone who is a decent, conversationalist if not great. i want to be a passable author, if not spellbinding. someone who can express themselves. someone who can weave silverine words, pen everything down, speak everything up and not swallow them down. 

i dont want to have words refusing to dislodge from my throats, like now.

– mritha bose