Still air

speech·less (spēch'lĭs)
adj.
1. Lacking the faculty of speech.
2. Temporarily unable to speak, as through astonishment.
3. Refraining from speech; silent.
4. Unexpressed or inexpressible in words: speechless admiration.

"Joel gets really quiet. He just sits there for half an hour and he wouldn't say anything. Creeps me out sometimes. You're pretty quiet too, aren't you? You don't have much to say most of the time."

That is true, but not all of it. I could talk if I wanted to; sometimes I have a lot to say. My friends can testify to that. But truth is, with you, half the time I'd rather listen to you, because somehow with your voice in my ear, it's a little quieter in there, inside my head. And with the rest of it, I struggle to come up with words to say what I wish I could.

"My neighbour's a big drug dealer, his girlfriend is bipolar and it got really bad so he kicked her out... This girl I kinda know got shot in her apartment, it's in the news. No, I didn't know her that well, not really my crowd... I have to help a friend move. Her stepdad got stabbed to death so they can't stand living in that place no more..."

The way you say it, in that levelled tone, you make it sound like it just happens every day. It doesn't seem to shock you, or make you particularly upset. I don't know if I'm supposed to say something, but even if I am, I don't know what's appropriate. I can't tell if there's ever room for comfort with things like that, but you seem to have already taken it as a fact of life.

"Chris' mom died and when I was at the funeral, I started crying so hard because I knew what it was like for him. In the middle he came over and asked me, 'how does it get better after?' and I just said, 'it doesn't.' I wish I had thought more about it before I had said it though, I felt so stupid."

But I bet not half as stupid as how I felt, lying there, next to you, not knowing what to say. I just gradually changed the topic of conversation. I wanted to ask, but I didn't know if you'd want to talk about it, and I felt rude for asking. I wish I could have said something, but who am I to think that it would make a difference?

"I fall asleep really quickly whenever I'm high. But that's what I do every night, I smoke a joint then go to bed, or I can't sleep otherwise. In the summer I was like an insomniac, and I just worked out all the time."

And as you slowly drifted off into sleep, I wondered what kept you up. My textbooks would tell me that drug/alcohol induced sleep isn't really as rejuvenating as natural sleep is, and how you'd be losing the REM sleep and all that. But when sleeplessness is the alternative, is there really a choice? For the better part of the night I lied awake, and watched you toss and turn in your sleep. In my head I played out dialogues between us like audio tapes, conversations that we never had. I don't know if it would be too pretentious of me to want to try and understand you, or too patronizing of me to want to make you feel better, somehow. Maybe I already am for thinking that comfort is what you want. But if only I could say something, maybe it would at least make me feel better.

"What?"
"hmm? What?"
"Why are you looking at me funny?"
"I'm not looking at you funny."
"Yes you are."
"No, I'm just looking at you."

And really I was just looking at you. Ok, I lied. I also wanted to tell you how I like you, even though some people must think me crazy for even thinking that. Heck, I think that I'm crazy to feel that way. I wanted to ask if maybe you feel the same, or if I had invaded your privacy. And I just wanted to say that maybe you shouldn't skip work today. And maybe also say how cute you are. Really, I didn't mean to look at you funny. I was just looking, and the only funny part would be how our conversations went so smoothly in my head, yet when I looked at you I was once again speechless, my words hung in still air between me and you.