Quiet

Speaking. It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not like I can’t. So just go on… speak! But of course, I can’t, my throat closes up and I’m silenced again my by own fears. Write a poem, Mrs. Kemp said, write a poem about what you feel, it could be about anything, don’t hold back, don’t edit, just write. And so we do, we pour out our souls onto this 9 by 7 inch paper and then she tells us to speak. To get up in front of the class and recite the most vulnerable parts of us. So naturally, I go first. ‘Melody, read us your poem.’ And my heart stops, and my blood runs cold, I shake my head as my throat closes up, such a frequent feeling. I open my mouth but no sound comes out, and all Mrs. Kemp does is frown and look disappointed. I’m not surprised, this has been going on for a while.  I think people have begun to forget my name, ‘The quiet girl’ they call me. I haven’t always been silent, they have to know that, I’ve spoken to many of them before. They ask my why I don’t talk like they don’t know, like they weren’t the cause of it. I used to speak. But not anymore, once you’ve been shut up so many times, you loose the glamour of it all. Expressing my opinions means nothing if nobody wants to listen. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to them. Why should I have to share my thoughts? Thoughts are private things. My thoughts, my opinions, are mine and mine alone. Some people’s thoughts are nasty and mean, some people only want to tare you down, but what could you possibly hold against me if I never speak?