silence is (not always) easy
So are you going to talk to me about God now? You should talk to them about Him, not me. He gestured towards a gaggle of teenage girls making a ruckus at the void deck. She shook her head inwardly. Maybe on other days, she might. But tonight she was just a friend with the letter F guided by her heart, going to a draft rehearsal without a script.
I can be an extremist, he said. She looked down at his stenciled arms and agreed. The ink marks seem to tell a story of their own. And i'm one walking contradiction, he continued. Do you understand? He looked at her with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
She nods quietly. She doesn't want to admit that she is one too. Too should be a four-letter word. Everything means less when it's coming from the too place. I love you, too. I miss you, too. I like peanut butter, too. Oh, really, me too! Whoever says it first means more. She remembered she had once told someone something significant and she held her breath after she said it, unsure of what she was hoping for. 'Someone' responded with a thankyou. She wasn't convinced, she felt like she lost something. Kinda handed you my beating heart on that one and you thanked me? Thank you is reserved for the pepper pot passed in your direction, not vulnerability. She'd rather have silence, because sometimes words will only dilute moments. If she didn't bite her tongue in time, she'd have told him that she understands contradiction all too well. Simply because she is there right now. Next to him bathed in orange light and swirls of grey smoke, watching him collect his thoughts with an IV drip of Carlsberg and nicotine. She wished she had not come; she wished she could stay longer. She feels insecure; she feels safe in her own skin tonight.
Time waits for no man. Not even for a pair of unlikely friends sitting on a park bench still wet with evening rain. It's late, you should go back now. Yes, she replied automatically. When she said yes, her "s" blows out the imaginary candle between them, and then, as sudden as that, they are both in the dark again.
I can be an extremist, he said. She looked down at his stenciled arms and agreed. The ink marks seem to tell a story of their own. And i'm one walking contradiction, he continued. Do you understand? He looked at her with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
She nods quietly. She doesn't want to admit that she is one too. Too should be a four-letter word. Everything means less when it's coming from the too place. I love you, too. I miss you, too. I like peanut butter, too. Oh, really, me too! Whoever says it first means more. She remembered she had once told someone something significant and she held her breath after she said it, unsure of what she was hoping for. 'Someone' responded with a thankyou. She wasn't convinced, she felt like she lost something. Kinda handed you my beating heart on that one and you thanked me? Thank you is reserved for the pepper pot passed in your direction, not vulnerability. She'd rather have silence, because sometimes words will only dilute moments. If she didn't bite her tongue in time, she'd have told him that she understands contradiction all too well. Simply because she is there right now. Next to him bathed in orange light and swirls of grey smoke, watching him collect his thoughts with an IV drip of Carlsberg and nicotine. She wished she had not come; she wished she could stay longer. She feels insecure; she feels safe in her own skin tonight.
Time waits for no man. Not even for a pair of unlikely friends sitting on a park bench still wet with evening rain. It's late, you should go back now. Yes, she replied automatically. When she said yes, her "s" blows out the imaginary candle between them, and then, as sudden as that, they are both in the dark again.
Labels: life observations
