I haven't done a writing blurb in a while.
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She was a little in love with time that disappeared too quickly. It was a sad thing...but made all the more beautiful because of the tragedy of it. At least that's what she thought.
But then again, she was always hopelessly overtaken by such tenuous things -- like the perfect kind of silence that wasn't silence at all, but one filled with something more...the kind of something that words would only misunderstand.
Or his smile that was always so briefly there and gone again, too quickly for any camera to catch it. Even when trying to recall it to mind, it was fleeting. Like the flicker of a lightbulb as it dies out. And it never failed to distort her heart's sense of time. It would stammer for a second, stretching out one beat before stumbling and fast-forwarding through the next several. The smile, the laugh he usually gave when he was with people was nice...but it wasn't that one.
Or the tickle of fizz from taking that first drink from an extra-carbonated soda can.
Or the way her fall in a dream stretched out into eternity before she was rudely jerked awake as if reality was a cord tied around her middle. Dreams distorted her sense of time, but then again so did reality. Sometimes time could be stretched out to an infinity, stretched so thin that it was a cobweb strand too fragile to be seen. Sometimes it was so slow she could almost reach out a hand to touch it. Sometimes it caught up to her too quickly, gone before she could utter the word she wanted.
She had a hard time with that. Finding the word she wanted. There were times she felt that even if she had all the time in the world, she could never find the word she wanted. Or the word he needed.
Not to say that they were the same word.
But that's why she liked being with him. Because when they were together, it didn't matter anymore whether time was speeding up or slowing down or stopped. It just...was.
It used to be that she was greedy with her time with him. Checking the watch. Despairing of each minute that slipped out of her grasp. Reaching for more of it. Never knowing if she wanted more to listen, to speak, or to hold on in silence.
But the funny thing about time was that it was like a bubble. The more she tried to hold it, the more quickly it popped in her hand, only to disappear, splattered in her palms.
Like most things, the greedier you are with it, the more quickly you lose its worth.
And so she stopped. She let go of it. And without even looking for it or asking for it, they would find each other. They went around without looking for each other, but knowing they would find each other.
And little by little, time stopped too when they were together.
She didn't know how he felt about her, what he felt toward her...and she wasn't altogether certain of her feelings toward him either.
Maybe she should have understood that about him. Maybe she should have understood better than anyone else. But maybe she was too close with him to see clearly. Like a picture that is pushed closer and closer until it becomes a blurred vision, distorted from any resemblance of the original.
______
She was a little in love with time that disappeared too quickly. It was a sad thing...but made all the more beautiful because of the tragedy of it. At least that's what she thought.
But then again, she was always hopelessly overtaken by such tenuous things -- like the perfect kind of silence that wasn't silence at all, but one filled with something more...the kind of something that words would only misunderstand.
Or his smile that was always so briefly there and gone again, too quickly for any camera to catch it. Even when trying to recall it to mind, it was fleeting. Like the flicker of a lightbulb as it dies out. And it never failed to distort her heart's sense of time. It would stammer for a second, stretching out one beat before stumbling and fast-forwarding through the next several. The smile, the laugh he usually gave when he was with people was nice...but it wasn't that one.
Or the tickle of fizz from taking that first drink from an extra-carbonated soda can.
Or the way her fall in a dream stretched out into eternity before she was rudely jerked awake as if reality was a cord tied around her middle. Dreams distorted her sense of time, but then again so did reality. Sometimes time could be stretched out to an infinity, stretched so thin that it was a cobweb strand too fragile to be seen. Sometimes it was so slow she could almost reach out a hand to touch it. Sometimes it caught up to her too quickly, gone before she could utter the word she wanted.
She had a hard time with that. Finding the word she wanted. There were times she felt that even if she had all the time in the world, she could never find the word she wanted. Or the word he needed.
Not to say that they were the same word.
But that's why she liked being with him. Because when they were together, it didn't matter anymore whether time was speeding up or slowing down or stopped. It just...was.
It used to be that she was greedy with her time with him. Checking the watch. Despairing of each minute that slipped out of her grasp. Reaching for more of it. Never knowing if she wanted more to listen, to speak, or to hold on in silence.
But the funny thing about time was that it was like a bubble. The more she tried to hold it, the more quickly it popped in her hand, only to disappear, splattered in her palms.
Like most things, the greedier you are with it, the more quickly you lose its worth.
And so she stopped. She let go of it. And without even looking for it or asking for it, they would find each other. They went around without looking for each other, but knowing they would find each other.
And little by little, time stopped too when they were together.
She didn't know how he felt about her, what he felt toward her...and she wasn't altogether certain of her feelings toward him either.
Maybe she should have understood that about him. Maybe she should have understood better than anyone else. But maybe she was too close with him to see clearly. Like a picture that is pushed closer and closer until it becomes a blurred vision, distorted from any resemblance of the original.
And maybe it should have mattered to her, more than anything else. But it didn't.
Because she was happy with this. Happy with. Him. Happy without. Time.