Finding Buried Treasure

I have ten minutes to write this, please excuse the hurried nature.

You talk to me and I do listen. But to answer you seems out of my control. I'm not sure of all that confounds my thoughts and I feel as if there isn't any way to give you what you wanted, there are gaps and voids that run deep. I seem to be, for lack of anything better then to label myself, selectively mute. Can you accept that? Can you accept me? It was once thought of as elective mutism, but the belief was someone would chose not to speak of something so painful. Yeah right, same as thinking an alcoholic choosing to drink until blacking out. I cannot speak about certain things, or to certain people, or in certain situations. I do believe it is a condition, a learned behavior, but can I unlearn it?

But look at this letter. It is written with love and it is written because I find some safety here, some distance that allows a path for my feelings. The path that opens my heart to the light is through the written word. I see words here that would never be spoken from my lips. How can I explain the depth of this letter, the nakedness of exposing my inner thoughts.

If spoken words could save my life, I still would not be able to utter the necessary string of oral commands. I could not, do you understand? That is something did happen. My life was on the line and I could not say the words. Don't ask me why I still live, I don't know myself.

I have not given you the words you long to hear. Could you me?

I hope you still think there is still treasure buried within. My heart worth the voyage across the soundless seas. You are my dashing pirate. Tell me sir, do you wish permission to board my vessel? I want you to shiver my timbers. :P