I'm out of things to say
So we've fallen into an awkward silence
I want to talk to you
I really do
But I don't know how
And it's a shame
Why can't I speak?
I can tell you're waiting for me to say something
But I don't know how
So we'll be stuck in an awkward silence
This is really awkward
The air was heavy. The words that he had said were echoing in her head on constant repeat. She didn’t know what to say or what she should be doing. Confessions always went differently in books so what was she supposed to do when she was rejected? He hadn’t left, merely staring at her.
I don’t like you.
His words echoed in her head like a clap of thunder. It didn’t allow her to say anything or move. They stared at each other, tension rising in the air so thick that you could cut it with a blade.
I can’t stand them. Awkward silences. When my soul shreiks:“Say Something! Anything!” my mind goes blank. The inner screams will continue to haunt me for as long as I live. The frustration from not being able to change anything about this cruel occurrence holds a knife towards my mind, my heart, my soul. The rage is overflowing. Unable to be released, it continues to hope for some form of being harnessed.
Most silences, I find, are awkward.
So when I feel the creeping of a particularly quiet patch in conversation I endeavour to eliminate it by saying whatever it is that is taking residence of my mind.
This has resulted in me becoming the personification of awkward silences. The essence of an awkward moment.
I lack the ability to be silent
So I have developed the talent for being awkward.
It has its perks.
Waiting for the train
Is awkward silence the product of two incompatible people? I really hope so. But then again he’s so darn cute, I almost don’t.
But if not that means that it is the fault of one person or the other that the room is so deafeningly quiet. That means it could quite possibly be my fault that he and I are sitting in a silence that is so tangible it feels like peanut butter.
Should I say something about peanut butter...
Or maybe about how cold I am, or how hungry I am, or how the weather really doesn’t know what it wants to do, or maybe just how darn tired I am...
Am I boring? God I’m boring. I wish I had my phone, then at least I could act like the silence isn’t bothering me.
Quick say something witty... that’s a funny word... w-i-t-t-y
If I say that out loud is that just quirky enough to be interesting? It could be a funny start to a wonderful relationship. We could tell our kids one day, “I was sitting there, twiddling my thumbs hoping your father would say something but instead we sat soundlessly next to each other, and while I was thinking about how to break the ice with some wonderfully witty joke I started thinking aloud how fun the word witty was. It made your father laugh because...”
“I thought it was just the strangest, most random observation. But if I’m being honest she’s not wrong, it really is an interesting word,” he would say in the voice I had not yet heard him use.
“God it’s cold in here.”
Oh fuck he scared me. His voice isn’t at all how I imagined it. It is deeper with the occasional crack. His mouth moves a little different too. When he speaks, the words seem to tumble out of only the right side of his lips. Like the left side of his mouth had been glued shut. Maybe he had had a stroke. Or an injury. Or it was the result of a cleft lip surgery. Or he thought it was suave and charming to use only the right side of his mouth. It gives him a kind of mumble that I hadn’t expected.
Oh fuck, I never responded.
“Yeah this weather really doesn’t know what it wants to do.”