Conversation is a two-way street because it takes two people to interact, to form a connection, to constantly ensure that the other is enjoying each other’s company–whether they are opening their mouths to a heated discussion or simply basking in the presence of a common interest.
Conversation – to me this is an intangible bridge that allows two people to cross over and meet face to face. I love having personal conversations because they allow me to delve into a warmer side of a person and appreciate them for who they are, for what they like to do in their spare time, and I love watching their eyes glitter as they talk about all things they are passionate about.
First launching into a conversation with people may be disappointing because of the way this intangible bridge is able to twist and turn or suddenly dip below, into the icy water you did not know rippled beneath this bridge (the conversation). Awkward starters are persistent and may not seize to exist during the first time you meet someone, unless you make the effort to offer a friendly smile and work to exude a vibe that puts the person you are conversing with, at ease.
One day, I had a conversation with somebody and we did not stop talking. We did not stop talking for the next four years and this person became someone very real, and very amazing, and that someone is someone who I pledged to appreciate forever. But this somebody is also one of the reasons why I dislike conversation; because when it becomes stale for the other party, and you let this ongoing conversation/bridge that you’ve formed mean so much to you —
it is sadly evident that I got disappointed. It was a lovely conversation. We had a lovely ongoing chat, we talked constantly. We became good friends and found people to cherish within each other. Conversation between us is no longer warm and gentle and caressing but sharp and acrid and each word burns as it tilts off of my tongue.
It hurts so much and I can no longer breathe, or imagine–that I had discussed dreams, heart break, heart-heal, and the things most precious to ourselves with this person–I can no longer feel the happiness derived from this conversation. Instead, all I feel is the pain and the subtle hiss of poison from the person’s slackened end of the conversation hitting the floor,
and all I hear is my heart dropping. No longer a comforting voice, but the sound of echoes. I talk to a brick wall now, but very recently, it got worse. The brick wall has crumbled, all the bricks have fallen, and each of the bricks have left scars all over my body. I think I want radio silence right now, for it takes someone special to destroy the very art of something I love – conversation.
Featured Image | Photo by me, featuring SY