in other wor(l)ds

sometimes i grieve over my incapability to articulate my thoughts and my feelings. yes, i can write, i can speak. but i can never seem to do them right. i waste words, so many words. i can use a bunch of them, make the sentence pretty, but i can never say it clearly. i can never form them in a way that make people hear me, that make even myself hear me. none of them has substance, none of them are good enough, none of them are right. sometimes i get jealous over people who can do it so well. who speak it well and speak it right. who can speak the language and use it to touch the things they care about. everything i want to say always get jammed on my mind, and i can never get them out. i can never get them out correctly. in a way that is interesting, and yet intelligent. i can never do that and i hate it.