My attempt at writing. I don’t know if I can go as far as to call it creative.

I struggle to pick up on how I am feeling in time and already know I’m too late to intercept my current state. But in an effort to not spiral, I have channelled some of my ongoing thoughts into a short piece of writing. It’s not very good and this really isn’t my strength, but I’ve had a go anyway. Please feel free to ignore it. I’m also probably going to regret hitting post.

It’s a tale of my growing silence in certain social situations.

Tip of my tongue


You know those moments
Where you know that you know something
A detail, a date, a fact, a joke
But no matter what you do
Even though it’s so close
You just can’t quite grab hold and say it

Well, I guess it’s just got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

Your audience are looking
“I thought this was your thing”
their faces scream at you
Come on, entertain us, we’re waiting
But it doesn’t matter
The pressure has built up - too much

Well, I guess it’s just got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

You know those times
Where groups are meeting
Talking and chatting and conversing with ease
Come on, join in, sit next to me
You’re being quiet, where are your thoughts?

Well, I guess they’ve just got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

Your ears are throbbing and your face is hot
Your brain exhausted
From twisting this way and that
Reacting to the directions of sound
Fluctuations of volume and booming laughter
No way to join in, the words unspoken

Well, I guess they’ve just got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

Rule after rule have been observed
And finally after years, understood
I’ve got it at last! I think I can try
But wait! Confusion- The rules have changed
Unless, of course, it’s one for you and one for me
Now I’m uncertain and words unsure

Well, I guess they’ve just got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

“I’ve got a fact, something of interest”
How about this?
Trees, rocks, wood and tools
No, no, no! Definitely not that!
They’re boring and dull- no one wants to know
The heat of shame spreads after getting it wrong

One by one, you learn not to speak

Words, conversation, relatability

Well, I guess they all got stuck
On the tip of my tongue

Parents
  • Your excellent words remind me - by association - to these from the song 'Windmills Of Your Mind'; both seem very relevant to us all somehow ~

    'Pictures hanging in a hallway or the fragment of a song
    Half-remembered names and faces but to whom do they belong?
    When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
    That the autumn leaves were turning to the colour of her hair

    A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a wheel
    Never ending or beginning, on an ever-spinning reel
    As the images unwind, like the circles that you find
    In the windmills of your mind...'

  • The Count Arthur Strong version takes some beating 

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