Conversational episodes shifting as liquid in my head; a smattering of languid syllables and capricious decibels weaving patterns in the continents of my mind's eye; these musings, a familiar feature during my daily intervals. Archived in my head are chapters, novellas, sequels of imaginary speeches I would've given passionately to various people in my life. Addressing voiceless thoughts, weaving intense repartees and clamorous discussions with aggravating reason. They exist in ubiquity tectonics, impartial in deliverance.
I have no idea why I've never collected enough courage to spill them out loud to the right people, maybe its my lackluster love of confrontations, an avid reluctance to create craters and corners with my acquaintances. Or maybe I've found more satisfaction in standing back and witnessing events unfold in their natural courses, without nudges, without directions. Sometimes the better observations find a way to flow out of me and I collect time to address its particulars. But most of these thoughts, most of these agonized musings, they stand to remain only as intimate, interior dialogues.
I have no idea why I've never collected enough courage to spill them out loud to the right people, maybe its my lackluster love of confrontations, an avid reluctance to create craters and corners with my acquaintances. Or maybe I've found more satisfaction in standing back and witnessing events unfold in their natural courses, without nudges, without directions. Sometimes the better observations find a way to flow out of me and I collect time to address its particulars. But most of these thoughts, most of these agonized musings, they stand to remain only as intimate, interior dialogues.
No comments:
Post a Comment