Mutterings

I wish sometimes I remembered how to ask. Somewhere along the line I must have forgotten how to say the words I needed to. Just because you know what you want doesn’t necessarily mean that you will even ask for it.

I want you to tell me a story, your story. A story that makes me understand a side of you I have never seen. But I don’t know how to ask. I want you to tell me that the world isn’t a cold place and I will always be warm walking along side of you. But I haven’t the words. I want you to say that the dark shadow that haunts my nightmares can’t harm me while you are around. That seeing him wouldn’t send me reeling into memories best forgotten. But the words never come. I want to ask you to give me your friendship as well as your shoulder, to let me burden you with my chaotic thoughts. But I haven’t the heart to ask. I want to ask you to wipe away my memory and regret. To glue the broken pieces back together seamlessly. But I wouldn’t know where to begin. I even want to ask you to laugh with me, to enjoy my moments of joy. But I’ve forgotten how to speak.

Where would I start? It’s been so long since I bothered to ask anyone for anything. Someone asked me whose shoulder I had to cry on. The thing is I know those people are there. They are waving their arms at me as if they were tying to land a chopper. I know who “you” is. “You” is everyone I care about, who I know haven’t forgotten what it is to open themselves up to another. But I don’t remember how to ask. It isn’t that I need them right now or that I am falling apart. I just want to remember how. To ask is to open up a part of yourself, a part that I closed long ago in an effort to move on.

There’s no need to comment here, these are just my random mutterings. All I need is some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a good book. That and to appreciate that I do have those people there... regardless of if I ask or not.

“I'm just trying to look at something without blinking.” -- Toni Morrison