I laid on the cool wood, marvelling at the ridiculousness of lounging on the floor simply because I ran out of options. I rested a foot on the stack of pillows crowding the living room and stretched. The door to my room opened behind me sent a shaft of light where I was, but the room was mostly dark. I thought to myself how I'd simply shrug if my roommate(s) came home to see me laying there so stupidly. And perhaps we'd laugh and they'd say "you're weird" and I'd reply "tell me something I don't know!" Through it all, he spoke and I listened.
He probably thought I wasn't listening, but I always do. I was thinking also about how many fake or would-be relationships had crashed and burned with me listening and them talking about something I'd rather not have heard. People like to talk to me. I like to listen. I guess. They feel comfortable with me and they tell me everything. I give the appropriate responses and they talk some more. Occasionally, I chime in for a second and then retreat. And then they talk some more. It's how it works. Surface things need surface chatter. I came up with that rule to be enigmatic. It's a relic from the days when I was too shy/uneasy to put myself out there with someone new. You know, the old days like an hour ago.
I'd rather listen and see what I'm getting myself into. False intimacy makes me unnerved. When I'm unnerved, I put the barricades up and the filters on. I always look the gift horse in the mouth. You can never say I don't learn my lessons. I obviously know how to talk. All these words on the web pages didn't appear from thin air even when they did.
I considered talking last night and also the night before. Instead, I listened and smiled and made response noises. And that was as far as I felt willing to go. I want my voice to have weight and I'm tired of wasting my breath.
Posted by Candicissima at March 14, 2005 09:47 PM