Emotive Upheaval

I sometimes wonder if I could survive without my voice.  Maybe what I really mean, is without my thoughts; for I seem unable to not have them immediately spill off of my tongue, creating a slick mess everywhere.  A mess I always tend to slip in- like a child on ice for the first time, finding herself too quickly on her ass, not sure if she should cry or laugh and instead choosing to stare into emptiness with a trembling bottom lip, arms flailing about in under-water slow motion.

I sometimes wonder if I weren't tripping over myself,  feeling the hard crack! of earth under me, wind knocked out of me, embarrassment washing over me, petticoats disheveled, head in a daze, would I even know I was living?  Without the harshest of reminders cutting through the bullshit, would I just meander about in mute ineptitude, oblivious of the need to ache? Picking my way carefully about the slippery spew of others who chose to live a vocal-life of emotive upheaval, damn proud of my tidy underpinnings, muckless shoes and little else?  Makes me want to scream.