i kept waiting for the music to fade in, and it didn’t. i kept waiting for my words to float into the air, move into her mind, and draw her face into a sweet pout of “i can’t live without you, but i don’t know if i can do this again” but that didn’t happen. the words actually couldn’t get into my mind from wherever that place is that our minds find words, and the words that were in my mouth, felt too big and out of place as they fumbled around, and fell towards the ground only to bounce up and make their way back to her ears at lightning speed. i sat there on her couch feeling quite inadequate and dumb.
what was i doing back over here? i knew this was folly. and so were the words that kept moving into the air, and i knew that my soul wasn’t as desperate as my mouth was making it seem. i mean, did that just happen? that was supposed to be a surprise, or maybe not a surprise depending on if it was ever said or not. foolishness is what it was. i saw too many movies, and thought maybe i had stumbled into a movie but it turned out that this was just a scene i’d have to relive in my dreams. not on any screen worth watching. because this is
crazy thing about reality. the other person doesn’t have a script. or if they do, it isn’t the same one you’re reading from. i mean, it was at one point. that’s how you got into the whole situation, but one day, the director of the story seemed to walk in and hand her a different script with which she became quite comfortable, and you…well, you keep waiting for John Williams to bring in the symphony and he doesn’t.
you just kinda sit there. and things get awkward like they never did before. like awkward in a way you can’t ignore. like, “big gulps, huh?”
it makes sense why we watch movies. if we had soundtracks that moved through the atmosphere, and into our very midst, there probably could be an ease in the moment. tears. laughter. a sudden rising, and walking out. when there’s no music guiding you, that moment of awkwardness may just stretch into eternity. at least for a moment it will.
see, i like the sound of silence. listen to it. listen. listen to it. isn’t it beautiful? depends on where the script is in your story. you might be going crazy with silence at the moment. “just give me a conversation, or a breathing pattern i can listen to! get me outta this situation of loneliness!” or you might love silence because, “i am at peace with everything. it makes me feel like there’s nothing between me and God and God is actually with me right now.” or maybe you just avoid silence because you know that when you hear silence, you have to deal with what’s in your head. all the things saying “come on, you know this isn’t right. you know that you’ve got better than this. you know you’re meant for more. you know you’re compromising who you are.” so you don’t let it get to silent.
you just fill your life with what you call music, but it looks like you’re jamming out to static.
see, here’s the thing. your romantic idealistic nature is probably just a load of crap you’ve been listening to from some false reports of what love “really is”. but you know it isn’t that, deep down you know that. and you know that you don’t give back the way you should for that love to exist, yet you have this ideal in your mind that keeps you in this cycle of “ah, i’m stuck in this cycle, and i can’t get out because i’m banking on something that isn’t real.”
if it’s real, live it. if it’s fake, give it…a rest. seriously, you know you’re faking it if you’re faking it, and you know it’s real if it’s real. and we know you’re faking if you’re faking it, and we know it’s real if it’s real.
how’s that script lately? how’s that soundtrack? how’s that movie working out for you? it’s your story.
we can talk about reality, right? is that ok? because i think it is crucial for us to check back in with reality to be true to ourselves, our future, our past, even now.
so you just kinda sit there, and wonder if you can call your buddy to come over with final cut pro so that he can edit out everything that just happened because this isn’t a movie that you want recorded on your timeline. you want symphonies that lead to love, not silence leading to anguish. rewind. rewrite the script. record over your mistakes.
see, here’s the thing with reality. it’s out there for you to remember. plan for mistakes. they’re going to happen. and so are those moments on the couch. so what do you do?
say a prayer and get out of there.
or just save yourself some future heartbreak, anguish and say, “we’re just kind of over, huh?” and when she says yes, stand up and say, “have a nice life.” then walk out and don’t look back.
otherwise, you’ll be sitting up late at night writing a note knowing that you’re still just in repair.