You will get most of the way through a sentence and then hear it as if from the back of the room, suddenly unsure it landed, already softening the next one before it leaves your mouth. You were born with Chiron in Gemini, and the centaur in the myth taught from a wound that never healed, not in spite of it. Yours sits in speech, in the short distance a thought has to cross to reach another mind. Somewhere early a sibling finished your sentence wrong, or a teacher corrected you in front of everyone, or you asked a question into a silence that just stayed silent. So you hedge, you over-explain, you go quiet and call it tact when it is really the old flinch. Mercury runs quick and bright through this ground. What trips you is treating that early non-reception as a verdict on your voice. It was never that. The wound carries its own teaching: you know exactly what it is to speak and not be caught, which makes you patient with anyone else trying to find their words. You get to finish the sentence even when the room has not started listening. Say the thing. Let it land or not. The saying is yours.