When you figure that out, write it down,
he says. As if relationship were a concept, an abstract idea easily understood once pinned (or penned) down. But relationships, like words require context and that context is us. You. Me. Complex humans who cannot come to any word without interpretation specific to you, to me. Where ne’er the twain shall meet…?
I laughed when you said, “Write it down.”
You have no idea. Behind pages and screens I hide. There I find time to distill my unspoken thoughts into carefully honed words. The page is a wall, my own personal fortress. Here I store the strength to steel myself against misinterpretation or (god forbid) outright rejection. The one place I can be truly me, whether anyone else approves or not.
With you I force myself to speak, an attempt to be done with hiding. This time I will see, hear, know what comes of my words. The relationship that cannot bear the weight of them is a mirage, an oasis shimmering in the distance with only the empty promise of connection.
words too heavy float like boulders in my mind i fear the fall of their weight on ears too fragile
Most often the words will not come. When they do, the anticipation of possible outcomes catch them in my throat. I watch you do it too, ill-prepared for the vulnerability that revelation invites.
But what if the fear is a lie, the mere shadow of a monster cast by our own egos upon that flat featureless expanse of time we see stretched out before us? Unlike Pan, we reject it, content to let it drag along behind, weighing us down with the burden of truths we are unwilling to face in the glaring light of context.