Sore Throat

Since I was 9 - an age where the reality of life swooped me into its cold grasp, turning my world and I upside down and shaking us violently, for years, until coping with losing my father became bearable - writing has been my outlet and therapy. I rarely confided in family or friends to discuss my feelings. I bottled them up inside then spilled them onto inviting pages of scrap paper and word processors, exhausting my emotions and hands. Today I still practice this technique. And today I am angry and brimming with questions.

What good is your voice if no one listens? Do you continue to shout? Or do you admit defeat and accept silence? How do you force someone to listen, to care, to respect your advice? How do you not feel insignificant when you are ignored? How do you not become angry? Why do some people always trust the advice of their parents and no one else? Why care?

Because I cannot stand being ignored. And though I pose these questions, I know that silence is never the answer. Keep shouting. Keep screaming. Keep singing. Gather any and all ears, dig deep into your belly and bellow until it hurts. Only stop when you're physically unable to continue. Exhaust yourself for the sake of yourself. Only then can you say you did everything you could. Fight the good fight (with your mind, not your fists). Tell surrender to fuck off.