The Pen is Mightier
I hate Common Tasks; they force me out of my comfort zone. I am perfectly willing to write about a ridiculous subject in a rigid structure using two quotes per paragraph. That’s only a challenge, not worthy of hate. What I hate, is being forced through prompts to share my written thoughts, through a dissimilar voice, to read my work aloud to other people. I will not convey myself to others with my speaking voice. That timid voice is one I do not treasure. To treasure that voice would be like admiring the vibration a reed makes when blown on a clarinet, instead of the clear notes that form a sweet melodious song. The voice I relish is the voice I use to write with. It is the voice I use when I don’t care who, if anyone, reads my words or what they think of them, or when I use words like modicum and myriad even though a little and a lot would suffice. With it I can express myself unhindered by the frailty of my verbal self.
When required to read my own written thoughts as speeches, I stumble over the words like a first grader. The very thoughts that created the words seem alien me. I stutter and change words like malevolence to evil simply because I do not use them when talking in tedious everyday conversation. With my written voice, thoughts flow through my pen like silk, every thought and syllable as clear as the ringing of a church bell in the early morning. I feel at home writing it is as if my pen is simply an extension of my mind. This is the voice that I use to express my inner thoughts and feelings, I can be truly honest and open in writing.
I will never be recognized by my writing voice however, the dictionary classifies a voice as, “The sound produced by the vocal organs of a vertebrate, especially a human.” Society places far more importance on the far less eloquent spoken voice than on the written voice. Mothers everywhere record their children’s first spoken word, but I can’t think of anyone that has recorded their child’s first written word. It seems a shame to restrict the identity of a person by classifying them with their spoken words, when written words are more reflective of our true thoughts. Society, logic, and plain common sense tell me my voice shall forever represent me as the same stuttering self-conscious girl, but I would rather go on speaking in the voice that I know to be mine, my true voice that only shows up on paper. Webster’s be damned.



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