Why I Am So Cool

While I’m sure that people mean well in general, I find the question: How come you are so calm/collected/cool/controlled and whatever variations they come in, to be rather rude in the current situation I find myself in, and insinuating, to say the least.

Impossible to answer, and really, why should I?

A simple and honest reply will read that I am repressed. T’is true, for want of a better something. It’s freaking rare that I display any major sign of emotions when faced with real trauma, that I know.

But meanwhile, am I supposed to cry silently or sob loudly when it happens and news is broken? The sheer contemplation of it just clogs up any tear ducts I have. I’m very self-conscious about tears.

*

Simple words fall spectacularly flat and apart. Others (even close friends) let you down by managing to say all the wrong things at all the wrong times, and by failing to see the darkness in the tunnel. The light will go out, stupid!

You somehow cling on to the memory of a clandestine serenity someone offers, in his stillness and silence, which no longer speaks stagnancy to you.

You just want to. Basking in the spectre of something familiar, comforting and assuring, it’s the feeling of being safe again that you craved.

And he’s real, truly so, and you will belong to each other for a short while, after which, life will go on, when someone leaves and another dies.

*

Next to myself, he’s the most blasé (and repressed) creature I have ever met, in the unflappable sense, perhaps more so than me. Which makes it easier and harder.

But he’ll make things right by being wrong, which makes all the difference now.