Saturday, April 26, 2008
"I've longed to discover something as true as this is...so with one thousand sweet kisses..."
RENT I'll Cover You
I feel like I've a million things to say but I can never find the words to say them. I've never been one for clarity. Or staying on task. *looks guiltily over at to do list.*
The idea of miscommunication has been lingering at the back of my mind for a while now. I guess we lie to protect ourselves. Or sometimes we don't know how to respond, trying to give the right answer instead of how we actually feel. And that's easy to do. So concerned are we with our perception that we wind up blocking ourselves off from our emotions, and ultimately, from the people we care about. We're constantly told that communication is key, and for the most part, that holds true, because if you can't be honest with someone, you can never commit yourself to someone. And I'm slowly discovering that. It's easier to hate than to love, but the latter is ultimately more fulfilling.
I suppose it's decision time really. Either to continue things the way they are, watching them constantly fall apart, or to take initiative in the silence. What's that cliché line that the Body Shop uses? Be the change you want to see.
I never realised how closed off I was, or am, I'm not really sure, until recently. I was taking a shower and suddenly all was clear. I complain about not being able to talk or whatever when I'm prolonging the silence. I whine about every mistake, every flaw, when I'm not even making how I feel clear.
From now on, I'm making a commitment. Because what we have, what we could have, deserves that.
The idea of miscommunication has been lingering at the back of my mind for a while now. I guess we lie to protect ourselves. Or sometimes we don't know how to respond, trying to give the right answer instead of how we actually feel. And that's easy to do. So concerned are we with our perception that we wind up blocking ourselves off from our emotions, and ultimately, from the people we care about. We're constantly told that communication is key, and for the most part, that holds true, because if you can't be honest with someone, you can never commit yourself to someone. And I'm slowly discovering that. It's easier to hate than to love, but the latter is ultimately more fulfilling.
I suppose it's decision time really. Either to continue things the way they are, watching them constantly fall apart, or to take initiative in the silence. What's that cliché line that the Body Shop uses? Be the change you want to see.
I never realised how closed off I was, or am, I'm not really sure, until recently. I was taking a shower and suddenly all was clear. I complain about not being able to talk or whatever when I'm prolonging the silence. I whine about every mistake, every flaw, when I'm not even making how I feel clear.
From now on, I'm making a commitment. Because what we have, what we could have, deserves that.
I can't read your mind, in case it wasn't obvious
From my constant stream of "What's going on
In that head of yours?" I want to know, I really do,
Even though I can't admit that, can't express that,
Just like I can't tell you anything else, how the sound
Of your fingers against your keyboard annoys me when
I'm on the other end of the line, and how I always seem to find out
How much you enjoyed yourself, how excited you are to see me
From other girls. Yet I can see your reasoning - I never seem to care
Especially when I can't even sustain a conversation with you, and I
Second guess my every response, ponder every word I say, trying to
Find the right answer instead of just saying what I think. I'm not an
Open book, and I can't freely say how I feel, the way you're on my mind
All the time, how every thought, every discussion has an uncanny knack
For coming back to you. How I check my phone every break just to see
If you've texted, and if you haven't, I just stare at my background, that photo
Of us, my favourite - us together, smiling, arms around one another. I have
Every photo of you on my iPod, and whenever I'm upset, or I miss you, I scroll
Through them, falling more in love with your smile every time. Yet you have
No idea how much I care, and it's the same for me - only recently have I
Discovered how much I mean to you. And somehow, it's mainly by accident - I
Wish you were the one telling me. I wish I could hear your voice saying that
You loved my eyeliner, or I looked gorgeous, or you can't wait to the formal because
You get to see me. I love the fact you talk about me, and how you love running your
Fingers through my hair, but still...I'd love it more it you spoke about me to me. So
That I have the confidence to confess all these things to you, how good it feels to be in
Your arms, or to have you resting on my shoulder, and that cute half-smile thing you do,
And the stupid excuses you use as reasons for me to kiss you, how much I miss lying next
To you and the way your lips feel as they touch my neck. All these things I've never told you,
Though I hope I can learn to, giving up incessant need to be ice cold, because...I want this
To work. I want this to last just as you do. And I've never told you that
But today, maybe I will.
From my constant stream of "What's going on
In that head of yours?" I want to know, I really do,
Even though I can't admit that, can't express that,
Just like I can't tell you anything else, how the sound
Of your fingers against your keyboard annoys me when
I'm on the other end of the line, and how I always seem to find out
How much you enjoyed yourself, how excited you are to see me
From other girls. Yet I can see your reasoning - I never seem to care
Especially when I can't even sustain a conversation with you, and I
Second guess my every response, ponder every word I say, trying to
Find the right answer instead of just saying what I think. I'm not an
Open book, and I can't freely say how I feel, the way you're on my mind
All the time, how every thought, every discussion has an uncanny knack
For coming back to you. How I check my phone every break just to see
If you've texted, and if you haven't, I just stare at my background, that photo
Of us, my favourite - us together, smiling, arms around one another. I have
Every photo of you on my iPod, and whenever I'm upset, or I miss you, I scroll
Through them, falling more in love with your smile every time. Yet you have
No idea how much I care, and it's the same for me - only recently have I
Discovered how much I mean to you. And somehow, it's mainly by accident - I
Wish you were the one telling me. I wish I could hear your voice saying that
You loved my eyeliner, or I looked gorgeous, or you can't wait to the formal because
You get to see me. I love the fact you talk about me, and how you love running your
Fingers through my hair, but still...I'd love it more it you spoke about me to me. So
That I have the confidence to confess all these things to you, how good it feels to be in
Your arms, or to have you resting on my shoulder, and that cute half-smile thing you do,
And the stupid excuses you use as reasons for me to kiss you, how much I miss lying next
To you and the way your lips feel as they touch my neck. All these things I've never told you,
Though I hope I can learn to, giving up incessant need to be ice cold, because...I want this
To work. I want this to last just as you do. And I've never told you that
But today, maybe I will.
Never Told You
Labels: miscommunication, philosophising, poetry, procrastinating, RENT