Relatively Quiet

Silence is not a companion I would often like to have. I cannot sit still and be silent for longer than it takes me to sleep. Oh yes, I can be silent. Not talking, if that's what you mean. But I'm often talking in my head. Call me psychotic, but my greatest companion is myself.

I don't like being silent, because for me, thoughts often accompany silence. And I don't like to think much, these days. I think about things a lot before, but now, I relatively would like to stay quiet and not think, not think much at all. Not think of the mediocrity that is my life, nor the tumultuous situation of our country or the uncertainty of the future, both mine and this country. Silence does not often give comfort. It does not bring forth good, happy feelings. And I avoid negative feelings like the plague. I have enough of that for a lifetime, thank you.

I haven't learned how to be silent. I wanted to. I really do. I wanted to learn because I think the best things in life are unspoken, left unsaid, communicated in scorching gazes, meaningful smiles, tender touches, loving gestures. I always envy those people in the movies that get together, under the rain, with just a shrug and a smile. How can two people bridge any animosity and find true love, under the cold harsh rain, with just an apologetic shrug and a forgiving smile? And how did I, just by watching, interpreted that shrug to mean an apology and that smile to mean forgiveness? What if that shrug means 'what the hell, I cannot find anybody else, so I'd like to get back with you' and that smile means 'i hope you're apologizing because if you're not, you'll be sorry.'?

I think i'm bad at body language. I often misinterpret things. I immediately think of the most romantic meaning it can hold. Or sometimes, the pessimist in me, immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. Because I cannot simply let it be, and be silent and accept things for what they are.

How I wish I could. Be silent, I mean.

I wonder when I could a massage?