Client [Undecided] - Session 3

(Beep. Music fades in.)

You find comfort in the silence, don’t you? I get it. I’ve never experienced it, myself, but I can understand. I can understand the appeal when silence brings peace. Even if it is a certain type of peace. It’s the peace unique to familiarity, to a state of affairs you know quite well, that you’ve experienced before. Frequently. And you find yourself in right now. This is your normal. This is your constant state of being. It’s familiar. 

Too familiar, you whisper. But then you catch yourself. It’s a confession you didn’t want to make. It wasn’t a conscious choice. Rather, it just slipped out. And now–as impossible as that may be–you want to pull it back. You’re about to pull it back. You’re about to speak to that effect. But then you pause. You take a moment to gather your thoughts, and you realize that I may already know. After all, I know quite a bit, don’t I? I’m standing back and watching you from a distance, and from that distance, I see the pieces you don’t and the others that you tried so clumsily to hide.

I know the silence is familiar. I know it’s too familiar. That it is your normal not because you chose it. No one really chose it. It just is what it is. It is your life. It is your past, present, and seeming future. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And that’s where we find the problem. Or that is the problem. Silence–especially in the quantity you find around you–can be a double-edged sword, or that’s what you want to call it, but maybe that isn’t the right expression or turn of phrase, you fear. And I can’t tell you if that’s right or not. I never cared so much for such things. Or I thought of my reaction as not caring. It might have been more complicated than that. Frankly, I struggle with words, with language, and with communication. I lose myself in the nuance. I lose myself in the sentiments that are so difficult to capture. That often escape sound. 

So maybe this is that sort of thing. Maybe the expression works or it does not because of that unseen nuance. I cannot decide. I also don’t think we need to. We understand what you mean. I understand what you mean. 

The silence is barbed. It hurts. Especially in the quantities you deal with. As it sits in the air around you, those thorns drag against your skin. It’s not one long cut like from a sword or a knife. No, it’s more subtle than that. And in some way, that makes it more dangerous. It starts off bearable and stays that way until it’s not. Until you’ve already been nearly shredded. Until you find yourself wondering what is left. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Her voice breaks through the silence, you want to tell me. And then you feel guilty. You worry that a simple declaration of love will start to sound like an obsession. You worry that your feelings have already devolved into an obsession. You worry still and always that a line has been crossed. Because you don’t recall seeing it. Not now, not ever. You had hoped it would be obvious. Drawn with bright red paint. Impossible to ignore and impossible to miss. But few things in life are seldom that straight forward. Few things will ever be so simple. Most things have to be discerned. 

And at that, your breath caught. You don’t think you can discern this. You are scared and confused. You get so much wrong, you think. You get so much wrong that you expected that to be your word. Wrong, mistaken, general mistake, accident, regret, anything like that. You keep expecting this to be an attack of some kind. A justified kind. An earned kind. 

But no, it’s not that. I don’t know what this is, really. I have my suspicions, but those are far from them. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Do you want to know what I know, what I see? Do you want to know what it is that you seem to miss? It’s surprisingly simple. You will accept her no. And no need for clarification or confirmation. I know this to be true. I see it in your nature. There is no malice or aim to erase all that she is. There is no desire to hurt or dominate. There is no desire to conquer or destroy. But a desire to celebrate. And that is a good sign. 

But that can’t be so, you fear. It’s a contradiction you think. You think it’s in what I’ve said. In the twisting and turning way I’ve spoken. To bring up your misery and your affection in the same track. You see the link there. You don’t trust it. You don’t want her to be the treatment to your ills, you think. She can’t be. That’s not fair to her. 

She’s a person. Not a remedy, you think. And she thinks the same, about you and herself. No one gets through life unscathed. No one gets through life without at least tasting loneliness. But maybe the remedy is not in her but in the actions you must take to pursue her. In your voice and in the words.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And that’s what scares you. That puts the emphasis on the things you fear the most. You don’t want to tell her. You don’t want to say it. You have reasons for the hesitation. Reasons I understand. You don’t want to hurt her. Or yourself. You don’t want the embarrassment. You don’t want to be the cause of hurt, of tragedy, of loss, of grief, or  of anything of the sort. There’s a chance for any of that in here, isn’t there? Anything that you’re afraid of could happen. 

But why are you afraid, I need to ask. Answer that. Answer it aloud. Say the word. (Pause). I know you can. I know you feel it. I know it seizes you at every opportunity. I know it stills your tongue, your breath, your heart. I know it haunts you. It lingers in the silent air around you, pestering you, frightening you, and so many other things. 

You’ve survived it, you want to say. You don’t know why you want to say it. You don’t know what good it will do you, but you want to say it. You’ve survived love. You’ve survived as its hostage. You can keep doing so. Because love is a twisted thing. Love is complicated. Love is just as risky as silence. 

You flinched when I mentioned love, I know. You did so each time I said it. An automated response to the mention of a concept that had not been kind. But what am I to say? This is not your choice, but it’s not mine either. This is the trial you find yourself in. This is what you are hiding from. But you can’t hide forever. It isn’t doing anything for you.

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?