December 10th, 2022.
Content Warning: Falls in line with some Depressive Ideologies.
Based on the title, I can’t say that I am mute. I know, clickbait, but I can’t say I don’t want to be.
I have been gnawing on the idea for awhile, I feel a lot more happy when I don’t talk, because then when I do, people pay more attention to the words I actually want to say.
I feel as if it would be better for people I love too.
I know you don’t know, but I am a clumsy person. I spin and dwindle on each word as I shake my hands and let my hands grip to moist earth; I drink coffee and shake.
I spill so easily, my jar has been so full for so long a minor anger comes spilling like the foam from the boiling of a tea pot.
And I hate that about myself.
I think that’s why it’s been harder to get out of bed, I guess I can’t see the issue with being mute. I have already made cards in case for the day I do. But I still, just, can’t.
Perhaps nervous from the social fall from grace, people always talk to me because I talk to them. I wish they would give up, but I was so dark when I did.
So it’s hard. I’m slipping away, and it’s more discomforting and confusing that ever. Do I want to die again? Probably.
Jellyfish don’t talk, that’s why I want to be a jellyfish.