Lately I’ve been pretty deep into my own head, and it’s been hard to crawl out and face the brightness of other people’s smiles, their hope that things are going well.
“How are you?” — the most innocent question in the whole world.
My mouth is a loaded gun and my tongue is on the trigger. It’s Russian roulette with words; what verbal bullet will I release into the awaiting ear?
“Good, and you?” — the most evading answer in the whole world.
A safety zone has been declared around my life, but those things left unsaid still echo in my throat, knocking against my teeth in their rage to be let out, to be heard.
They are not my words to say, yet I own them completely. It’s a riddle I’ve yet to unravel, a gun I’m afraid to fire lest I hurt someone else unintentionally. In my indecision to speak, I remain mute, listening instead of talking. Deflecting questions with questions.
“Good, and you?”
I’m angry. Confused and sad, alone and hurt. Righteous and protective. Oh, I have words! But they are wrapped up like little origami explosives and I am constantly reminding myself that paper swans and frogs can have sharp edges, too.
I want understanding and support but I fear pity and sympathy almost as much as indifference. It’s easier to not say anything at all, to let the blank bullet gently fly by as an acceptable answer and to divert the focus away from all of those loaded words in my mouth.
“Good, and you?”
It’s excruciating to say nothing at all.
That was a beautiful description of a feeling I know all too well. I love the imagery of the bullet…
I, unlike you, seem unable to contain emotions such as those. The bullet quickly pierces me and hazardously barrels through the world.
I hope you’re able to unleash the secret or the pain you’re carrying silently. No one should suffer alone.
I hope that our time together yesterday helped alleviate some of that stress that you have been harboring. I know it did for me!