voice

Sometimes it seems I will never have a voice. Just when I feel confident that the words are finally mine, that this is the way I want to say (whatever it is that I might have to say, but at least, to figure out the voice, even if the message...) I realize not. I find myself drawn to another language. To reinvent not myself, that would be way too complicated, but my voice. So hard when it's also a different language. When the language might in fact determine the tone my voice acquires. Wanting to say x or y and realizing there is no way to say it in this terrible, terrible cold language. To either be limited by the formulaic and fake or to fall inevitably in the hybrid. Lo pocho, el spanglish horroroso. And, entonces, tan difícil, oh, damn.