Then there are those days when we talk. With a gentle shrug of the shoulders we throw away the all-encompassing, oxygen-squeezing shroud of silence and become ourselves again. We become sentient: thinking and feeling beings. There is no need to mumble our words or push deeper into the dark corner of our brains the ideas that are waiting to explode. There is no need for wild gestures even. Everything is said and now it just needs to be done.
And then there’s the rest of our life. We go through all the motions. But the dominant gesture is always ‘disregard’. Hearing, speaking, nodding - ignoring. Smiling, asking, thinking-ignoring. Doing, seeing, choosing - ignoring. We ignore lest we say something that the significant other would find hard to ignore. We ignore lest we do or feel something that would become impossible to disregard. Ignoring is our retreat. Our asylum of choice.
And so, after all the ignoring has been done, there is but one thing left to do. Pick up the shroud and hope that it is thick and dark enough to blot out the ideas shining within. Until that some day when we can freely talk.
And then there’s the rest of our life. We go through all the motions. But the dominant gesture is always ‘disregard’. Hearing, speaking, nodding - ignoring. Smiling, asking, thinking-ignoring. Doing, seeing, choosing - ignoring. We ignore lest we say something that the significant other would find hard to ignore. We ignore lest we do or feel something that would become impossible to disregard. Ignoring is our retreat. Our asylum of choice.
And so, after all the ignoring has been done, there is but one thing left to do. Pick up the shroud and hope that it is thick and dark enough to blot out the ideas shining within. Until that some day when we can freely talk.
2 comments:
"However, now as thirty somethings there is nothing we look forward to more than sleep time. In fact, we are often reluctant to wake up to face another day in the life. For in dreams lies our real world."
Very true!
Sigh! I know :)
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