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My Voice

I cannot begin to describe the feeling when I write. There is a small voice inside of my head which tells me what to write, sometimes it pops up and refuses to go away until I write down what it wants me to write. Sometimes its hours before I am able to write whatever it is, but still it stays. Persistent till the end. Following me until I cannot stand it anymore and simply have to write it down, or I shall never be able to concentrate again. Is this just me, or does it happen to others as well? I find myself sitting here writing this before school, unable to stop to even check my spelling. The voice persistent whispering the words into my ear, or perhaps straight into my mind. It tells me that I must write, I must tell others how it feels to write. I tells me that I must at least try to describe this feeling, and maybe they will be inspired. It tells me that everyone has a voice, but they must learn to listen to it before they can use it. I am lucky enough to have a persistent voice who has forced me to listen to him. Him? Did I just call my voice a male? Maybe he is male. I do not know, for I can only ever here my voice as a whisper in my ear, never loud enough to differentiate. The voice is gone now, I have said what it wishes me to say, so I suppose you have heard, or read whatever it is you need to know. I bid you farewell, my reader, and pray that you find your voice if only to find that there is a side of you who enjoys having one.



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