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Where Pleasantries are Useless

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Jan. 2nd, 2010 | 09:55 am
mood: mellow mellow

It's overcast now, where I am. Not to any sort of degree that it would worry me, but enough that it makes the sand my toes are digging in cool. I blink a few times, adjusting to the new scenery, watching the waves crashing further out, slowly making their way up towards where I'm sitting. I can hear birds making noises, the sound of the ocean drowning out my thoughts, so I'm sitting here with peace of mind. I've got an old hoodie on, faded jeans, enough to keep me sufficiently warm while the cool ocean breeze encircles me.

I'd like to say I'm here because I want to be, and I guess that's sort of true. I'm here because I need to talk to you, and it's the only way I know how. I can feel the suddenness of you sitting next to me, without even looking over. I recognize your clothes without even looking, and I remember how your presence comes across. I think you're barefoot too, which only makes sense, because we're on the beach. It's strangely peaceful, looking at the endless, dark waters, knowing that there's nothing in front or behind me, and knowing that I'm pretty alone. I wonder if you're really sitting there, but I remember that it doesn't matter, because as long as I get my point across and ask the questions rolling through my mind, that's what counts.

You glance over at me, waiting, knowing that right now, it's about me. "How are you?" Your voice is calm, and it almost gets lost with the wind, I barely remember what it sounds like. I shrug a bit, letting my hair tangle with the breeze, pushing it from my face, "Fine, I guess." I can feel your smirk, and I roll my eyes, "Half terrible. Half confused." Lying doesn't work here, and I should know that by know. Pleasantries are useless, too. You nod your head a little, understanding entirely, not waiting for me to go on, but simply expecting me to. And so I do. I explain to you my situation, how terribly lost and alone I still feel, how used to being alone I am by now, so much so I'm not sure how to be with someone else.

You wrap your arms around your knees, though not hugging them to yourself, nodding once more, knowing, "No. You do feel alone, and lost, but it's not an unawareness of how to be with others you've got going on. You're just not used to it, and it scares you." I roll my eyes, not looking at you, but understanding what you're saying. I don't like how true it is, "Is it wrong if it takes me another two years before I can be with someone?" You laugh a little; not patronizing me, but mostly because the answer seems so simple, you're surprised I even have to ask. You remember I just need reassurance, "Alix, it might indeed take you three years. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're ready for it, that you do it for yourself, and not to satisfy some urge to be normal. We both know that normalcy doesn't suit you." I can't help but laugh a little, thinking how much better I like your advice now here, on this beach.

It gets quiet again, the reassurance I needed comforting me softly, letting it settle into my bones, letting it permeate my being. And you wait as well, knowing that it's not the only reason I'm here. But you don't press it, no matter how curious you are. I wiggle my toes in the cool sand again, listening to the gulls out in the water, remembering an old memory for a moment before letting it go, "What are you thinking?" I peer over at you from behind my wild hair, out of the corner of my eye, head slightly turned, curious. You don't smile, your face still fairly stoic and thoughtful, "Honestly? I'm not thinking of anything. I'm just here." The words make sense, but they still lack something. You sort of understand that, though you understand everything out here. You look over at me, out of the corner of your eye as well, letting our gazes linger cautiously, "What are you thinking of?" I shrug, turning away entirely, looking to my left, watching the waves crash and move, dance in the water, "Good and bad. Wondering if it's wrong of me to sit here and talk to you." You laugh again, in a way I recognize, shaking your head at me, "You worry about that a lot. Whatever happened to doing what you needed to do to heal? What's so wrong with talking? This isn't like your dreams, you can control this. You're safe." His last words hit me, softly, though knocking the wind out of me. I get it. For that split second, I completely understand. I really am safe here.

You get quiet, letting me soak in more of your surprisingly good advice, my empty hand reaching out and grabbing the sand anxiously, playing with it. I let the cool texture wriggle through my fingers, giving me a tactile focus as I process it. But you speak again, "You're not angry at me, today?" I shrug a little, realizing I came for more than just advice, "I'll always have some of that anger. Some days are better than others." You nod, and I smirk a little, continuing, "I wonder sometimes if you cried after. I wonder if you felt guilt, or when the anger started to subside. I wonder if the guilt progressed. I wonder why you kept trying to take things from me. I wish sometimes you could have seen me after it went down, how many people flocked to me to support me. I guess I should thank you, in a way." You cock a confused eyebrow, waiting, "I mean, you took away any naive views I had. It was like taking off glasses. I understood who was real, who was true. I saw people for who they were, after. I read people even better now, better than they understand themselves." I laugh a little and raise my hands, running my fingers through my hair, pushing it back, "You helped bring out my super power. I sift through the bullshit immediately." You nod, understanding, and I don't look over to see your reaction to any of this, knowing that I can be selfish right now, and being alright with that, "I love who I am, and I hate parts of it. I love knowing a lot about myself, and others, and I love understanding on a different level now. I know I exist on a different level from the rest of the population, which in turn makes it hard to relate. Maybe therapy is what I need, but not to cure anything. To make sense of it."

I feel like you're starting to disappear, and so I get more concise, "For all my anger, resentment, sadness and frustration, I am still happy with who I am. I just need to learn how to make sense of it and come to terms with it." You nod, becoming more tangible for a moment, enough to speak,
"You've never changed. Just evolved into something more fitting and 'you'. You're perfect." I can't help but smile a little and nod, looking over at you as I take your hand, "Thanks." You squeeze my hand back and stand, letting it go, leaving me with my beautiful beach once more.

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Comments {1}


From: patches1963
Date: Jan. 2nd, 2010 08:37 pm (UTC)

Beautiful writing. Wow.

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