As Close As A Mind Can Read…
February 3rd, 2006 -- Posted in deep | 2 Comments »It dawned to me one time when I made a casual comment:
”... it came to a point when we could both read each other without even saying a word… It was scary.”
And I always seem to give the wrong message. The first part is always read as they are, while the second half of the comment is always either no heard or interpreted the way the audience wanted to hear.
“Wow! That’s sweet isn’t it? When you can read the mind of your loved one. When your love one can tell what you have in mind when you do.”
——————————————————————————————-
You may well put it anyway you wish. I’m really used to the usual response anyway.
It all came about this topic whenever there is a chat topic shared over coffee tables about past relationships. My story that came to this was not exactly a unhappy one, nor did it have a bitter ending. It was one of the stories I would write in my autobiography depicting my passage of way and how this relationship awoken me from my dreamy youth.
And it was true, that we got really close to each other only within months of knowing each other. We got even closer after cohabitation, to the point when we spend more time exploring each others mannerisms than looks. It got sweeter when the body language watching turned into slight bits of mind reading. There were times when we actually declared the day our ‘mind-reading day’, without a single word of declaration. Some of these ‘mind-reading days’ we even got dressed up and headed out into town wandering around by means of our friendly neighborhood public bus. We alighted and walked whenever we wanted to, got ourselves lost, and then took another bus until a subway station was spotted. All the while not saying any word. Just a smile and eye contacts to lead the way.
Then the silence that became a habit turned sour. Silent communication led to slight emotional paranoia. Since we were wholly into each other, we kind of shut ourselves out from the rest of the world for a bit. The paranoia was duly accompanied by possessiveness and sometimes overreaction. Only sometimes.
It was also the point when we knew when the other was going to ask for water, or when one knew other called when no sound was heard. We just knew. We heard each other’s voice calling from within. No vocal chord made any sound.
It became scary.
When we became aware of how we could almost think concurrently for each other, the meaning of self became null. We were two turning into one. Almost psychic, our minds sometimes felt as if our bodies were controlled by someone else. Self identity was almost lost. We could no longer function without the other.
So we parted. At first she left, and I almost followed, but realized later that it was probably only better for us both. At least better for myself. The starting of the cold turkey was hard. It was harder than being deprived of nicotine. It was a deprivation of self. But I know I had to do it. The cold turkey was inevitable to quit that self and gave it up. It was only inevitable to gain myself back.
Today, though we have gone on separate ways and still remain as distant yet close friends, our close encounter left a memory that developed into me an involuntary adversity to any attempt in getting anywhere close to the way we were. This adversity was not limited to just between us, at least not for myself, but was also deterring me from opening up too much or expressing too honestly towards others, like family and friends.
And the silence. I still miss that silence once in a while, especially when I find voices too tiring to be heard after a long day… Silence when I heard not a voice by my ears, but that voice that called from within. That voice that called no more.
