tongue-tied

I haven't written in so long. Those who know me say I'm a talker. They know I'm a writer, too. But the times I talk and the times I write aren't the same. Maybe I most feel the urge to write when I can't say what's on my mind. I may not even be able to write what's on my mind, but I can't seem to talk much at all when my words have to be so carefully chosen. Writing can be edited... I'll write and make sure it's all public-worthy before I let it out. I've been singularly tongue-tied for the last several days, and it hurts to be that way. I'm not sure which comes first -- the hurt or the silence. But at any rate, enough of what I've wanted to say these few days has been checked, it seems unnatural to speak much at all. Every word is measured. The thoughts I voice seem out of context. It's not that I have a secret I can't tell. It's not that something is horribly wrong. But there's a grieving going on inside me that can't be voiced, and separated from that grief, words offered to the world shatter when they hit the air. The grief makes the words pliable, and I am comfortable speaking only to those who can hold the grief with me. AF has. TW has. They've also held out hope to me.