What am I doing? Why am I being so cruel? Or am I sulking? Or
is this a tantrum? Or am I hurt? Or am I tired? Or am I sad?
What does this silence hide? Can it hide the thousands of
words that flow from me to you? Can it blank out the shared universe we
inhabit? D oes it shield us from
intrusive glares of a world that may judge, and even condemn? Is silence my response
to the emotion that consumes to such depth that it leaves me speechless?
There have been so many laughs, so many smiles…chuckles,
grins. It’s not been fire and brimstone. Instead it’s been easy companionship,
aided by an electrifying chemistry. Am I insisting on paying the price for this
happiness I have received, anticipating and pre-empting a demand? For what is
the easiest way to burn and torture myself, than to see you suffer? Each iota of
pain in your mind doubles as it makes its way to me. And that is the equation I
rely on for justice to be served, at my cost and yours.
I long to talk, to hug, to love, to caress. But I know that’s
not possible. So maybe I am throwing the kind of fit a child would…either I
have it all...or nothing.
That is not sensible. I know that. But nothing of this is
sensible. That’s what conventional wisdom says. But I want to lay that
convention down and screw it upside down. The last year has meant giddy
happiness and a transformation of the soul. That, in any language, is sensible.
But what of right now? Am I suddenly turning sensible, and
causing my own destruction in the bargain? Or am I being cruel? Or sulking? Or throwing
a tantrum? Or retreating in hurt silence? Or getting tired? Or just being plan
sad?
I don’t know. All I know is that I love. And I am silent.
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