Tongue Tied

I realize that it has been a very long time since I have actually written about the going-ons in my life. Well, looking back that is a lie. Half of everything I write has great significance in my life it is just weather or not you know how to read what it is. Now I realize you might need a decoder for what I just said, but instead I strongly encourage you to agree. Smile, nod, and walk away.

I'm horrible at talking, I'll admit that, and many of you readers that actually know me will agree (okay, like all two of you.) I have this (supposedly) incredible gift of writing, so as to the point of people actually liking to read it, and on some occasion it even provokes emotions. But alas, I can not translate that gift to my tongue. Some people have a silver tongue... mine is rusty iron.

I agree with myself, I'm horrible at talking. And it really bothers me, purely because I know you could hand me a piece of paper and I could write for you a small poem on exactly what I want to say, and more then likely convey my meaning much better then my idiotic stuttering of words, and "ums" could ever get me. I am, honestly, trying to improve this shortcoming of myself, but I really don't know where to start, I think for one I will just verbally express myself more then my classic masochistic ways.