Talking too much

Is it bad? I don’t know.

I’ve always been a talkative person, at least around people I’m comfortable with. I’ve been dubbed with nicknames by family all through my childhood of or pertaining to being so. It’s a personality trait for me; a second nature.

Wise people are always depicted as being composed, collected, self-possessed. Never talkative. Talkativeness I think has negative connotations, with garrulity. I don’t want those two qualities confused. I for one do know I tend to speak more often than not, but not in a ‘not nice’ way (at least I hope that’s not the case). I don’t know. Why do I sometimes can’t help but feel that it is ‘not nice’? Of course, if one talks a lot, the chances that they speak crap are higher than those who don’t, because well, there’s more talking happening. More chatter, more natter.

Sometimes, I’d get a whim to just stop talking. Decide that, that’s it, I’d stop being talkative. It never worked. In fact, it would be difficult. It was conscious, I’d be constantly thinking of not talking, because I’d constantly be wanting to.

I remember as a child, probably 7 or 8 years old, I was in the playground at school. We had a girl in our class, so calm and shy. She never spoke. I was jealous of that. I remember her nose was bleeding that day, she stood under the shade with tissues fiddling around under the shade. I remember looking at her and thinking ‘I want to be like that’. I don’t know why I thought that talking was such an incompetence.

Maybe because it is. I digress too much.

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Lost

People are surrounding you; you’re not alone. You have your family. You have your friends. You have your lover. But you are lonely.

You relentlessly linger, laze, and loiter. You find it mundane, meek, and mediocre. You render them lower, lesser, and worse.

You’re lethargic. Without energy. Without power; powerless. Without direction; directionless.Your life is hapless, and you, hopeless.

Always looking for something, always. Never have you found it, but never did you stop. Constantly lost, in a yearning search, on a longing pursuit; it’s a never-ending desire. You’re looking for something, wanting something. Who is it? What is it?

You thought you found it. You let it go, you let go. Break up, break off and break away. Time and time again.

But then, things changed. Someone became something. This time you didn’t let go. How could you? He’s everything you have ever wanted. The exact reason you want to. Too good. Too good to be true.

It is not true.

Is it?

Only you choose whether it’s worth it. Whether it’s worth the inevitable hurt. The very hurt you now contain, carry down, and carry on. The strangling, the choking, the heart beats; all that’s buried down.

If you decide it worth it, decide it true, if you let it be true: dig a bigger pit. Let it be ceaseless, only then will it suffice.

A question difficult to answer. Yes, you can not answer. You remain, for now, still lost. Still searching, still pursuing. In a never-ending desire.

You do not want to answer.

No tears anymore

 

I fight to contain my tears. The door is wide open, I can hear them talking outside. But I can’t help it. I can’t keep it in this long. Someone just passed, I look up, smile. The tears still in place. I can’t help it. I think of him and burst into tears. Thoughts race in my head, a thousand memories. A thousand more. Feels like an eternity together, and the end of. A quarter of my life I spent, with him.

We fought dozens upon dozens of times, but not that time.  We always made up, except that time. It was unprompted, to him.  I was contemplating it for months.

Did I do the right thing? It does not matter. Not one bit. No, because it’s too late. All hope, for anything, absolutely anything, is absolutely obliterated. By me, solely. My chest heaves at that thought, my heart clenches. Emotions so indefinite yet so familiar strangle me, taunt me, daunt me, loom around my head, attacking: ‘It’s all your fucking fault.’ I scream, it echoes unheard.

A quarter of my life I frittered, with him.

My mind is drained. My eyes impassive. I am unmoved.

No tears anymore.