the talking cure

Is talking a cure? A cure for what? Can the cure from talking be quantified? And a host of other questions. So, I've talked. And talked some more. And left some barbs. And been stung. Just like everybody else. "What I meant to say" is what we resort to." As T.S. Eliot put it in "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," "It is impossible to say just what I mean!" He added: "That is not it at all, / That is not what I meant at all." So, today, right now, I am feeling as if talking in fact ruined some situations. It would have gone better without the talking. That's how it feels. Of course, this goes against the tenets, the premises, of modern life. You can't go silent. You can't hold it in. You've got to talk. Really? This moment, I'd feel better not having talked out, as they say, some situations, though that's naive, sure, because it would have been inevitable, wouldn't it, the talking? Talking? Naw. Give this blabbermouth touching or tasting or feeling or smelling any day of the week. (But, psssst, don't tell my therapist.)