Thursday, September 15, 2011

Frankie, the never destined to be a great orator

I cried today, you know one of those silent cries where the absence of the audible tone makes the tears rush from your eyes and no matter how much you try to keep them at bay they become like a thrashing current.

And then they dry.

You look up with red eyes and foggy glasses at the people who haven't noticed or suspected a thing, and you sigh with relief because now at least you don't have to explain how much you feel like a fuck up every time the words that have formed so eloquently in your head and that have been so beautifully and wittily transcribed to paper, turn all the way to MUSH!
And so your angry, at yourself, at the assignment, and your peers who although they did not attempt to judge you, did so subconsciously. Not with snickers or teases as they do in elementary education, but with the solemn stare of "I'm so glad that's not me" or "Shes so smart why cant she just do this" or the heart wrenching stare of a friend who with their eyes say "Frankie, you can do this". The encouragement hurts worse than the defeat, because in my world that's been filled with parents callings of "Frankie, you can do anything" this is something that I simply cannot do.

Frankie, the never destined to be a great orator

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