Talk, Talk.

Yesterday I wrote about a unique trapping in which my only release was to be able to speak. It came to mind because I more commonly experience situations in which I have spoken too much, sometimes out of lack of preparedness or forethought, sometimes because I don’t know how to plug the flow of honesty that is coming directly from my brain, unfiltered, as if my mouth were a broken tap. The latter sometimes being a consequence of the former.

A wordy moment, brought to you by the year 1990.

It isn’t often that I’m saying anything unkind or offensive to the person/people on the receiving end, it’s more that I am expressing myself as a result of an emotion that I haven’t quite figured out. My reaction is to keep talking until the root of that feeling surfaces, but sometimes it never does; sometimes it does, but it is malformed; and most times it occurs so late in the interaction that the absorber of my words is left either dumfounded or no longer listening. Or, potentially, writing notes to put down in my permanent record. 

I am a intensely sensitive person. When I am bothered, I can’t contain it. Even when I can’t always point to the source of this mental tickle, I still verbally scratch it until everyone is irritated. Mostly me.

::sigh::