I do not like the sound that comes out from the tunnel of my chest nor the tingling words that crumble out from my mouth—awkward and uncomfortable, it is, for I am not a master of speech, and speech do not abide with my tongue. So, I turn to writing, my trusted friend who understands me when no one can. Together, we scribble the ink on empty pages, leaving the sheets with a picture painted in vibrant words.