Alexithymia is the inability to identify and express or describe one's feelings.

It's something I suffer from, speech-wise. I can think it's just fine, but it's the talking part that always gets me. Every time I say something, it comes out wrong. I didn't say what I was actually thinking because I forgot what I was thinking. Here's my open poem (or letter) to Alexithymia.

Dear Alexithymia,

I hate you. You are one of my biggest enemies. You leave me a writer with no words; and even though I have every physical thing I need lying in front of me, there's still nothing written down.

People ask me, "well do you have a pencil?" Check. "A paper and a dictionary?" Double check. "Words?" ... Negative.

I may have a dictionary in hand, but I am still caged within you. I'm unable to identify, express, or describe my emotions because you prevent me from doing so. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, there are 171,476 words in current use, 47,156 obsolete (out-of-date) words, and 9,500 derivative words included as subentries. In total, that's 228,132 words. However, even with that many words, there are still absolutely zero that comes to my mind when I want to get my thoughts out in the open or to explain my actions.

When I've done something immoral or wrong in society's or my parent's eyes, and they ask me "why," I WILL reply with "I don't know" and I will repeat "I don't know" constantly, because I don't, but that's not the entire train of thought.

I simply don't know how to describe it to them.

I don't know how to explain my thoughts to them without them thinking I'm freaking crazy. And the words, "I don't know" drive my parents up the wall and they tell me that that's not an answer, but that's the only answer I've got BECAUSE OF YOU! I get in trouble because of you!

You keep me prisoner when I attempt to write about him, too, because I still come up empty. So I'll resort to other topics or other emotions, like love, shame, guilt, jealousy, envy, fear, anger, happiness, sadness, or disgust and there's still absolutely nothing written down. Just a blank piece of paper. I have so much to say, but I have no way to express it and it's all your fault.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, so I guess it's accurate to say my mind is untouched. Yet, at the same time, it's a complete disaster, like a tornado sweeping through, full of broken thoughts I cannot repair nor bring myself to remember where that train was going. They never fail to run together and crash and burn, causing me to forget what I saying... Like I did just now.

When I go to the doctor and they ask me how I've been for the last three months, I automatically respond with "I'm fine." Not only because those words roll off my lips effortlessly because I've said it countless times, but because it doesn't leave any room for me to hesitate to search my soul for truthful words. It doesn't leave any room for my doctors, parents, or any part of society for that matter, to question me while I'm answering, because that would lead them to believe that I'm "looking for a lie." And usually, when I'm thinking, I look around... a lot.

Apparently, there's a lot of evidence that says if a person avoids eye contact when they are trying to answer someone's question, they're either thinking of a lie or a way out of the question, That isn't the case for me... you are, quite literally...

You keep me feeling trapped, similar to a caged bird who's cage is two sizes too small with absolutely no room for a single flap of a wing, even though I still hold on to the hope to break free and fly. You keep me as breathless as the dark void in space. I constantly feel as if I'm enclosed in a bulletproof, glass box. There's no way out for me... I hate you, Alexithymia.

People encourage others to be themselves and no matter how badly I want to, I can't. You put restrictions on me; you prevent me from being my true self, and I hate you for it.

Sincerely,

Me