I am the queen of conversation. Give me a rock and I can come up with something interesting to say to it.
But I’m multi-dimensional, like most human beings, and sometimes, I don’t want to talk.
I don’t want to talk about anything, unless it’s really stupid shit that has no relevance to my own life.
Would it be acceptable to just hang a sign around my neck that says “Currently not speaking to anyone” or maybe, “I just lost my voice but I’d love some chocolate?”
Because, to whoever’s asking, you’re not going to like the answer.
The honesty may be too much, or the small talk will only bore you. You won’t even know that you’re being lied to.
And aren’t you sick of being lied to?
It’s all the little things that add up that turn your days of conversation into days of observation.
You start to convince yourself that your talking could only be a burden.
Until, one day, you’re lying in your bed late at night and you can’t sleep because your insides are aching so badly from all the words you left sitting inside of them.
Then, the moment comes; the moment when you realize that you should have dealt with all of this little stuff before it got so big.
And so, you text 15 people, even people who you know are horrible listeners, asking them “Are you awake?,” because now you NEED someone to talk to; paralyzed with fear that your organs might explode all over your freshly washed sheets.
…And nobody answers because they’re out drinking with their friends, or romancing with their lovers, or snoring away because they have a much better relationship with sleep than you do, as they should.
And so you put on a sad Coldplay song, and you cry until you realize that you’re sobbing so loud, you might scare the lady who’s always sitting on the street corner outside your house.