This is just to say

Again, I'm speaking in emotions, that language you find so difficult. I'm sorry
not sorry, it's all I've got right now. How come feelings get such a bad rap?
How come you're not supposed to speak in feelings out loud where other 
people can hear you? Why are feelings supposed to be bottled up? Is it some
kind of marketing campaign? Is someone else going to sell my bottled up
feelings and make a profit but I'll never know about it? Is that how this works?
Let me say this: the right words to flimmer across my screen can make me cry.
Sometimes I shout to signal that I really prefer order and my voice wants to be
the law. I shout not to scare you but to command your attention. It's a 
primitive method, I'll agree. It often works. My emotions are talking and 
sometimes they get loud and don't ask permission. What I want for you and what you want for yourself 
are probably not the same thing but they might be related, like second cousins
once removed. And if you know what that means then maybe my emotion language
is not as foreign as you thought. And maybe my communication follows, falls, 
finagles a way into your hippocampus around about your frontal cortex circumventing
your hungry amygdala but probably not. Maybe it's just going in one ear and out the other,
unscathed, unbothered. This is just to say
This is just to say
just to say
to say
say
nothing more.
I might be done. You can stop listening if you ever were.

One thought on “This is just to say

  1. Sherri… I am listening. I’ve a long fascination with the hippocampus and its emotion/memory work and so I cheered at its appearance here in your flowing, vibrant prose. Raw but real, vital questioning all the way through; self-awareness and the skewing of interpersonal translation, this struggle with emotion-language. I sense honesty and a real desire to connect – this “you” being addressed is clearly very important to yourself. The shouting not to scare but to command attention, the importance of being heard, and a very underlying “why.” And – thank you for this delight of a word, “flimmer,” which I hold in my hand now like a fluttering moth.

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