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Saturday, 1 October 2011

Silence is deep as eternity, speech is shallow as time

Today someone said that I was a lifeline to them.  And that I gave them the incentive to continue on...words can't express the feelings stirred by those words. 
I thought about these words.  About why they were a shock to me, kind of like a slap of icy water against the face, or a foghorn blasted in your ear. 
And part of the reason why is frankness.  Words spoken in an uninhibited way.
Too much time is waisted with the evasive, carefully constructed and subtle speech of every day.

I like silence the best.  If only a vow of silence had a practical application to every day life....
But talking is always required, and that sucks.  People should communicate by osmosis or something...looking at or into the other persons eyes.  Not everyone has deep eyes.
For the most part, I think I'm too much of a politician.  
I think I'm too reserved in what I say, and too careful.  
Too disguised, too reticent.
Of course the source is fear.  The source is a fear of rejection, embarrassment and as much as this surprises me, an inability to openly flaunt and display much open emotion in what I say.  
The more I display my sentimentalism, my affections, my emotions as a whole, the greater chance I have of being hurt.  The greater chance I have of suffering through exposing my vulnerability.  Damned fear. 
Even now, writing this, there is always an ebb and flow, a tug-of-war of conflicting thoughts.
But it's an experiment, for me and no other.  I would truthfully demand an audience, because a choir is better than an echo.  But this is an experiment to use fear rather than run from it.  
To play around with my own limits. A leap of faith.

I always spout theories - romanticised ideas meant for the idealistic person, and for utopian-worlds.  But I know that reality has it's own say.  And it says that it's not going to be easy for me to be frank with everyone.  
First fear needs to be culled, or at least harnessed.  I want to tell the people I care for exactly what I feel and think about them.  Repression may have been a virtue in the Victorian era, but it's not in my world.  Not always at least.  I make exceptions.  I don't explode, I implode.  So for now, all I can say is

and I always have.  Even from the start.  


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