Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Talk About It

I don't have any answers. I can listen though. And talking about it has to be a good idea.

Today I saw a line of seagulls at the very shore. The sand all around a brilliant reflection of the low sun. It seemed orchestrated actually. You know, though, that I'm a raging lunatic. I like that we can share that. I'm not calling you a loony. More like I'm calling you my mate, which might make you unhinged anyway.

You remember laughing like that. We should talk about it. Not reminiscing. Sometimes when that's all there is it feels hollow and sad.

Of course I'm a fine one to talk about sadness. I'm no longer past it, in a numb state. I'm no longer paralysed by fear. But so what. I almost cried at an insurance advert. And I did cry at one for a Thai banking firm. They really know how to jerk the emotions out of me, one shakey breath at a time.

We should share a knowledge that we knew each other then and that we could know each other again. You were happy here. You saw the gulls, too, right?

Of course no-one else saw that view at that moment. There was a pair of German tourists nearby. They were further along at that point and I never saw them look back.

Imagine the regret at the instant you know that you're dying. Having to get off the ride. It's still spinning. Music plays all the while. Bright lights are intoxicating. And you say you want to stop? Let me shut up. I'll listen. You can talk about whatever you want.

They always use the phrase 'bottle it up'. Never do that. Don't bottle it up. Don't stuff the thoughts somewhere unseen. Don't hold on to it like it's something the others will hate. It's not some precious madness that they'll never forgive. They don't want to steal your thoughts either.

Just talk about it. For me, it was that line of gulls on the shore. They were like something out of a postcard. They were like a dream to me.

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