Authentic Voice

What is an authentic voice? How do I know if not only what I am saying,
but how I am saying it, is my true inner voice? As I grow-up in this
world, will I lose parts of my voice? Will I lose parts of my sense of
idealism and freedom? Why would I lose them and what is it to lose?

I've
noticed over the last year how much more somber my voice has become, or
how my vocabulary has changed. I mull now, I am pensive now. Mulling
and pensive were written words before and now they are spoken. What
happened to the girl who would slur a "fuck" or a "shit" in as a means
of protesting everyone's inner sensitivity bone? She wasn't crass, she
just wanted to exist as a force who could speak on many levels.

What
happened to the girl who reveled in writing erotica stories and who
bounced off the walls like a circus clown? She's in there, I feel her,
and every-once-in-a-while she pops her head out and waves hello. But,
more often than not, I sense myself censoring myself, checking my
thoughts in a way as to reflect my inner work, my deeper questions, as
a means of demonstrating this deeper self. Does depth mean loss of
humor? No. In fact, I should say, "Nooooooooo." Depth often leads to
humor. Does my search for deeper questions mean I cannot get mad or
feel passionately absurd? If I am true to myself, wouldn't my search
for deeper meaning indicate that I am more at-east with my playful,
silly side?

You'd think. And this is where my question about
authentic voice comes in: when connecting with people, in wanting to
form articulate thoughts, do I need to be a certain way? My immediate
response is "Nooooo." And I do not mean to say that I haven't been
authentically myself, I'm just observing shifts in behavior and
wondering how they align themselves with my words. By saying, "Be
yourself," I am encouraging others to stand in their power, to play in
the sandbox, to scream, to tease, to stomp, to curse, to be truly human.
Humanity is beautiful in its flaws, in its passion, in its
vocalizations. If I believe this, then writing and vocalization are
equally reflective of who I am and my correspondences and interactions
are equally reflective of the mood(s) I am in.

Maturity
doesn't mean I cannot play anymore, and when I curse, it doesn't mean I
lack the ability to articulate, in fact, getting to know someone is
getting to know them in full. Which leads me to a question I posed to a
stranger today: What is it to get to know someone? and I expand on that now and ask: And how do we know when we know someone?