Silence

 

 

Silence in the room except for their slow heavy breathing, not synchronised. Not asleep, but that sinking feeling when, after the body was so full of life, it is finally awarded a moment of respite.

"What are you thinking about ?"

"Nothing."

"How is that possible ? You have to be thinking of something !"

"I don't think - I'm just lying there, concentrating on my body, on the feelings, on the spots where our bodies touch..."

"Are you happy ?"

...

"Content. I feel content."

"Content. That's good. I was asking because I want to know what it's like when others are happy. That way I might know myself when I'm happy. I don't think I've ever known when I was happy."

More silence.

"What's your biggest fear ?"

"Becoming blind. I don't think I'd stand going blind. How about you ?"

"There being nobody. Nobody to talk to. People around me, but nobody with me, on whom I could bounce stuff, and maybe get an answer back. I don't expect people to agree, just... I think I'd go crazy..."

More silence.

Suddenly he gasps, as if he'd been underwater for too long, running out of air.

"I was thinking too much. My mind just never stops. That's why I have trouble sleeping, because I think so much. That's why I need people to talk to, because that way I'll know if I'm going crazy or not. So in a way, I'm using you. You're just someone I talk to."

"Yeah, but if I didn't like it, you wouldn't be here, would you ?"

"Hmm, I guess not."

Then the conversatin fades into life, her life, her past, his incredible insight that shows only a portion of how much his mind can work. He's impressive. He'd be brilliant if he didn't conceptualise the world he lives in. He lives his life fully on the instant and she envies him for that. However he doesn't seem to connect to the fact that one day he'll have to grow out of it, at least part of it, and switch from youth into adulthood. But he doesn't seem to believe in careers, jobs, and other adult-like things. Worse, he doesn't believe in time. To him time doesn't exist. The future doesn't exist. It's just a series of present times. Endless present times.

In a way he's right. There is only one earth, one place like this, and time does not have a physical existence. But I can't help think that I have to work towards the next few "present times", so that I'll be happy and have what I'll need in that place, even if it takes a little hardship in this place.

But make no mistake, he's had influence. Enjoying the moment is an idea that's made its way. And then there's the carefreeness, which could pass off, except for those eyes, a little too shrewd. Which reminds me that it's fake, as if forced upon him. But then who knows. She does, surely. Hope she doesn't let him down.