Inconvenient Inarticulateness

January 19, 2010
By
More by this author
I’ve never been good with words.

They just don’t roll off my tongue as easy as they do for some people, you know? I wish I were able to supply the right thing to say at the most pivotal moment. Instead, my throat closes up (burns) and I can’t seem to make you listen (to make you understand).

If I were graced with the exceptional speech abilities needed to make you hear, god, would I be happy. I would tell you just how much you mean to me (when really, that’s beyond what can be expressed in words). I would tell you how much you’re hurting me, just by looking at me now with those cold, emotionless black eyes. I would tell you that I never gave up on you (even when everyone else had) and that you are the only reason I’ve become who I am now. I would try to express the pain I felt upon losing you; my determination to find you again and bring you home; the joy I felt when you returned, and my despair when I realized it was in cold blood.

I would tell you that I realize just how much I’m hurting you now, and that I wish I could erase my mistakes. I could try to defend my actions, resorting to childish notions of “payback”. Or would saying that I was “protecting myself” be better? (But then again, I would only be lying.) I could reminisce with you, perhaps: travel back in time to when all we knew was innocence (before knowledge stained our vision).

But what I know is this:
I would tell you that you are my best friend. I would tell you how disgustingly wrong your blood feels on my hands (but how right my hands felt around that gun). I would tell you that, even after all we’ve been through (all you’ve put me through), I still love you (and I would wonder, do you feel the same way too?). I would tell you that I’m sorry.

But then again, I’ve never been good with words…





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback