I can still swear and sing. But I can't talk. Stupid brain! As i fled to my room to hide out, feeling distressed and generally upset, people tried to talk to me. I'm Danny, I talk. It's what people expect. And if i make half noises and wave them off, many will think I'm taking the piss or being rude and that's the last thing I want.
I was going to say that i hate this, but that's not true. I only hate it in circumstances where I feel I need to be able to talk. When this happens at home it's not an issue. Sharon can understand a lot of my vague sign language and face pulling, so I'm actually quite calm and relaxed about it there. And in those circumstances it actually feels good. The same shorting out of synapses that causes my ability to talk to vanish also brings with it a mild euphoria. So if I'm not stressing about it, I can actually enjoy how I'm feeling, which is pretty glowy and happy.
This was the inspiration behind the story "Words" which I've just sold to Borderlands. It's a very personal and private horror story in many ways, so i was really chuffed and happy when I sold it.
There's a freedom involved with this. When you don't talk you communicate in other ways and also see and hear more of what is around you. It's really nice.
But I'm at a con, with people who i love to talk with. So that makes it a fucking pain. Mainly because i feel in some stupid way like i'm letting people down.
Oh well. At some point during one of my experimetal attempts to talk i'll be able to and it'll all be cool again. Until then, I'll hide away from people a bit longer, then force myself out. I really don't want to face people when I'm like this, but it's with me for the rest of my life, so I'd better get used to it. And so had they, I suppose.