I lost my voice last weekend. I woke up and it was gone. It was an extraordinary effort just to make a squeak. You just take some things for granted, don't you? The ability to make yourself understood. The glorious feeling of being heard. 
I discovered how isolating it was to understand everything but not to be able to contribute to the conversation. Maybe that's what people in comas feel like. Or maybe babies in utero. Although we must sound like adults in Charlie Brown. Waawaa waa. 

Turns out that I talk a lot of shit. A lot of nonsense that no one really needs to hear. That certainly isn't worth repeating 
12 times, I can tell you that for nothing. 

My voice is coming back. I wonder why it left (the combination of typos and autocorrect meant that that came out as I love beer!). I felt fine physically so maybe it was psychosomatic? Maybe there was something that I wasn't supposed to talk about, maybe it was something that I needed to talk about but was stifling myself. Hmmm. 


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