How
do you write a letter when there is no way to accurately describe your thoughts
and feelings? When every word, every sentence does not feel right, feels
inappropriate or just not good enough?
I
have tried pen and paper, the iPad, my laptop. Every time I try I end up
throwing the piece of paper away, pressing delete all, not saving the document.
I have tried writing in the morning, the evening, on a workday, on a weekend,
in London, in the countryside.
I’m
now writing about not knowing what to write, what to say. Trying to figure out
if I have anything left to say. Anything that makes sense, anything that somehow
takes the pressure off, anything that will allow my brain to have a rest. Anything
that would work for us.
You
know what scares me the most about this? What the most threatening and awful
conclusion would be? The answer to those questions is simple: the conclusion I
fear the most is that as things are we have nothing left to say to each other.
I
say we because I worry that we will come to the same conclusion, both of us in
our own time, in our own space. You other there, me over here, both thinking
the same thing. Not communicating it to another. Both taking a step back,
choosing silence over words.
The
silence that weighs so heavily on me most of these days. The silence which makes me feel
so restless, nervous, jittery at the moment. The kind of silence that makes me
want to turn the music up, go to parties, stand in a crowd, just so I don’t
have to face it. That makes me want to run far, far away.
And
you know what else makes writing to you so hard? It is not just the conclusion
I fear but also whether you want to talk to me. Or for me to talk to you. Or
whether you would rather not speak to me or hear from me. I have no way of
knowing. And it’s killing me.
I
wish you would have just told me to either shut up or never speak to you again.
Said anything but leave me in this limbo, a state of being that is making me
question anything and everything we have ever said to one another. Was any of it ever real? Did we mean
what we said or were they just words?
They
say actions speak louder than words. I am usually inclined to agree. In this
case the action and the words are intrinsically and indestructibly intertwined.
One cannot exist without the other. Taking me or us out of this limbo requires
you to speak to me, communicate with me or for me to speak to you, communicate
with you.
Communication
was always our strong point. Something we were good at. I never thought that I
would be faced with your silence, not in this way. I never thought that your
silence could become agony rather than having a soothing, mind-calming effect
like it used to.
For
now I’ll wait. Waiting for the point in time when I can find the right words
for both of us without setting myself up for disappointment and making you feel
guilty. There is a glimmer of hope that you will surprise me that I am holding
on to. For now. Until the deadline I am giving myself.
