Her voice is like a falling leaf sliding upon the air. Don’t get mistaken, this is not about any notion of loss or death. Rather the contrary, actually. It is about harmony, subtle embrace of goodness upon the universe. It is about some softness, lying flat on the elements. I love hearing her voice. It is soothing. Beautiful and soothing. Gentle. Please, talk. Don’t look at me. Please, just speak. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know. But just speak. You certainly are some sort of peace of mind. Quiet life. Good for you. But I just love the way you speak.
The truth is I need someone to talk to. You may say I’ve already got people around me to do the job. Not many. But a few. Or only few. But no. I need someone to share with. You are a good person, and I think that’s the reason why you stroke me. I just love the way you speak. Your voice, and the way you use it. I would feel more comfortable if you couldn’t see me, because I know you won’t see my reflection. But, please, let yourself talk. It is soothing, what’s conveyed through your voice. It makes me enter a world I had forgotten. But I guess I must not show any emotion, any sign of what’s troubling me. But the more I feel it and try to hide it, the more it seems you know it. Perfect paranoia. Because you don’t even care, and therefore don’t even know.
This is not a love story. This is just about some kind of intimacy between a series of sounds and my heart. She is a woman, so I am. And I’m no lesbian, not even bisexual. I just love what is beautiful, no matter if it is male or female, nature or picture. If you want to track down some kind of sexual influence, please, do so. But please, be quiet. I don’t want you to spoil something whose beauty is far beyond those kind of concerns.
I am in an awkward situation. I am attracted to that voice, and what’s conveyed through it. But I don’t want to get close to the person that performs it. I don’t want to be noticed, I want to be invisible so I can better listen. So I can be a better audience. She is like a living piece of art, beautifully metaphysical somehow. But you’re human, and looking at you like I would have looked at a piece of art is disrespectful and indecent. I don’t like being in that situation. It already happened to me before, a few times. And it is awkward. I can’t stare at these people like I would have stared a magnificent painting, like I would have stared a beautiful sunset. Imagine some piece of art that would strike your heart telling you not to look at it because it doesn’t like to be seen. That’s a situation I’ve met more than once. Yesterday, it was a person. Today, it is a voice.
Damn it, why do I have to love what’s beautiful? Why do I have to notice? Damn it, why am I me? As usual, nobody cares, but I do. As usual, I’m alone in my troubles. As usual, I could talk to him, or whoever, and as usual I wouldn’t be understand: My words would, not what’s beyond them.
And as usual, whenever I feel something nobody will listen, I come here and tell it to you. Hoping that somewhere in the world, someone will understand. This is a place where sensitive people share. This is the place where I hope to find some emotional intimacy with someone, anyone. Actually, I’ve just realized I share some things, I share a daily life with my boyfriend, I share my college worries with fellow students. But I hardly ever share any sort of emotional intimacy. With anyone. Because it feels like nobody wants, or actually that nobody can.
2 comments
Intimacy is often uncomfortable. it it why some people don’t know what to say and why you can;t look at someone the way you look at art. Just say you have a really nice voice. that is about all you can do. i love your writing by the way. very descriptive. beautiful.
Hey, thank you for your comment.
I’ll say nothing and just go on with my life. Yeah, maybe you’re right, people don’t like intimacy. But, I just can’t understand why. If you share some emotional intimacy with someone, it makes you feel less lonely. I’d love to REALLY share with someone. I do share with my boyfriend, but it ends at some extent. There are things he doesn’t get, because we’re different. That’s why I’d like to find other people to share some specific things with. But, it just doesn’t happen.
I think it’s a combination of several stuff. First, not a lot of people do actually have something interesting to share. Most people are limited both in their feelings and in their thinking. That makes them machines which cannot really understand inner things. Second, some people just don’t want to open up to you just because it is you. I do not blame them, I get it. You want some people in your life and the rest is out. We’re all like that, that’s perfectly normal. And at last, there certainly are some people out there to share with, who will feel like you and understand you, but the world is so big and so small at the same time. They might just be on the other side of the Earth, or perhaps they’re my neighbours : I don’t know. I can’t know.
Thanks for your thought.