I've never been good at talking. Words were puzzle pieces to me, but they were all from a different puzzle. I would jam them together, hoping to make them fit, but only succeed in wearing them down. The edges start to soften and fall apart. I watched other people talk and was amazed at how their puzzle pieces fit perfectly. They said what they meant to say. Their was no awkwardness, no jamming of pieces. I wanted to take pieces of their puzzle and put them into mine. Maybe theirs would fit. Even if they did fit, would I want them though? Words always seemed like a burden. Words cause heartbreak, pain, misunderstandings, conflict and wars. Words come crashing into my skull, and they provoke me to say what's on my mind. They're screaming at me to speak. This is the time, Jada, tell people how you feel. This is the time. They force me to finish the puzzle, but I can't. What if my puzzle isn't the right one. My words can hurt people. They can cause heartbreak, pain, and misunderstanding. They'll draw attention to me. Once everyone sees that the puzzle my words make depicts a sad, tired, and desolate girl reaching out for someone, anyone, who'd want to listen to that ever again? My puzzle is better off incomplete.