I'm flummoxed. I'm tongue tied. Words fail me.
Maybe the challenge is the person I'm giving the message. Will they understand it? Will they receive it the right way? Will I deliver it the right way to them?
Getting the thoughts to crystallize might be the problem. They bounce around like socks tumbling in a dryer. Nothing coalesces. Nothing comes together.
Maybe it's just a bad message. If you're lucky, you never have to deliver this kind of message. But, there aren't many who don't eventually get the unfortunate task of delivering a bad message.
I find myself in a quagmire. Unable to figure a way out, I remain silent. The thoughts fight to come out, but the lips resist.
I find a few words. It's barely a fragment of a sentence. My lips nearly open.
Then, it all falls apart. The nascent beginnings of something lucid, something coherent fades away into the ether. I'm left mute again.
Maybe I simply need a change of scenery. They say a change of scenery is therapeutic. Maybe it will serve to loosen my tongue
In lieu of a better idea, I take flight. Where I find what I need is anyone's guess. My destination is unknown.
Nor is it known if this will serve to help me find the words I seek. The feet turn over in rhythm with the wheels turning in my head. The thoughts continue to tumble like socks, but it is now a slower tumble.
The ground rolls by beneath me. The fragments of coherent thought become less fragmentary. A few of the words I need make an appearance.
My breath enters and exits steadily, rhythmically. The words start to come a bit more readily. A few half baked thoughts are spawned.
Sweat emerges. Along with this sweat comes the stringing together of a few coherent thoughts. My lips purse as I rehearse delivering the message.
I've run headlong into the wall and survived. I've spent time in the pain cave and came out unscathed. Finding what to say is not impossible.
I run because I don't know what to say...