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My Voice

The  wind is my voice and I am lost to it, floating effortlessly away. 
I am alone, alone in the presence of many. A silent figure awaiting the promise of interacting. 
The kind of interaction that gives my heart hope, hope that one day I will really be seen for the person that I am. The person with a story to tell and sadness in her eyes. The kind that longs for adventure and just a simple question from a stranger. 

I have fear, fear that by the time I'm heard it'll be too late, that the wind that has picked up my voice will turn to ash (we all know there's no coming back from that) I feel that my loneliness will consume me that the ache inside my bones will get louder, pounding and pounding with the realization that I am unimportant. Unimportant to even those that claim I am the very opposite, Some say that I shine bright and have unwavering strength. I'd like to know where, because this shell I wear is cracking and it is waiting on the right moment to break. 

Inside, I am Little, Frail and incapable. I am sensitive and gentle.  It's funny, I guess to think of myself so small. But you see for the longest time I've had to be strong, I've had to stand up, to fight. While the inner me cried in the corner afraid of the big bad world.  The outer me became almost invincible, (superwoman if you will), who was resilient and always wore a brave face. But my voice? 
My voice is now one of a washed up dream, I am silent or rather silenced by the inescapable doubt of what I might say. My voice could yell in a crowd and sound merely like a soft whisper, to those that want to hear me, they always say speak up. but I'm tired, my voice is weak , I've screamed for far too long. 
 I am alone and full of doubt, unheard and unhinged. My voice is now in the wind, can it be caught? Can it be heard? 

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