your words in my memory are like music to me

Speechless. I don't think anyone ever believed that I could be speechless, as if I stood in a river of words, catching them in my net as they swam by, constructing a feast for everyone to enjoy.

But it doesn't work that way. I can't say the things that matter. The right words don't come by, they don't find me, I don't catch them in my net. The sun is on the surface and I can't always see into the water.

I am not infalliable. I can't always speak, I can't always find the words. Sometimes I find myself slipping under this stream, wondering how I look blue and covered in bubbles, floating away, away, away. When I don't have the words, that's what I do; I slip away.

And sometimes, the words are inside me but they don't want to come out. Sometimes they make it into my net but when I get them on they table, they just move too much, too fast, they're too slippery and I can't hold on, I can't keep them.

Sometimes this glare blinds me, sometimes, I can't hear over this river. Sometimes the things inside can't be found and sometimes, they just slip away. And I'm sorry if sometimes I slip away with them. I don't mean to but sometimes, it's safer under there where darting specks of metallic light brush your skin, where the world above is just a blur of color muted by blues and silvers.

I need your help. Tell me where to start the story, tell me what you want to hear. I'll write you a palace of flowers on a snowcapped mountain if that's what you want, just give the net, just show me the words that need to be caught.

Because sometimes I'm blind and sometimes, I am deaf. Sometimes, I am speechless.