I remember I used to use it a lot more a long time ago. I would go up to any adult just start talking about the first thing that crawled into my infant head. I never lacked the knowledge or courage to start an interesting talk, but they told me to stop getting into other people’s conversations, so I stood quiet.
I used to have a great sense of sarcasm and a contagious shine that I always carried around. I would laugh my head off at every single thing I found funny, but they told me that I was being too loud, so I stood quiet.
They told me to always say the truth, and to keep their secrets. They told me to follow their orders, and to not answer back. They told me that they knew best and all along I stood quiet. Just like that, they slowly cut my vocal cords one by one, and I stood quiet because I could not say anything wrong…
If I didn’t say anything.
As the years went by, my voice kept getting more used to being out of order. Its silence was so strong that I would have to force it to work when I was around them. There was a point where they started uncomfortable with the absence of my voice, so they tried to make me open up to them. However, it was too late for that. I could no longer push my broken voice to do things it was not used to do, no matter how much I wanted it to.
They closed my voice, and I’m not ever opening it up to them again.
Be that as it may,
I don’t know, though, if my ears will be able to keep up with my voice.