What if words could express our thoughts without censorship? If the conversations, the real and sincere ones, the halves of conversation in our mind that are destined to our interlocutors would descend on the lips before we managed to lock them in that crowded place with dark locks named „common sense, manners, hypocrisy” ... Because after years of training, almost everything in our conversations is reflex hypocrisy.
I do not regret that I did not hurt others more with my words, by not putting the "naked truth" in front of people. Or sometimes I do regret, but that is not what I am speaking of now ...
I remember clearly in my mind some moments when I needed to say what is not usually said, the immeasurable curiosity to see how interlocutor's „locks” are blown away in response, even for a moment. Moments like those when one expects a rain after a doughty season.
Sometimes I took a step towards acting out those thoughts. I went back to some former friends (not romantic relationships, but friendships) after years have gone by to ask why „Why did we grow apart? Why did we fight for? What were you really thinking then?” I had a huge curiosity to find out at least now, when the anger was gone, what really happened. To find out the thoughts that were really there on the other side, in the past. To look back now, and warmly admit the true reasons, the true fights. I somehow longed for such answers to help me see myself clearer, to unblock something.
I have not yet achieved this with anyone. It's like trying to take out a book from the base of a pile, all the other books added after it in time are pressing it, holding it hostage. I clearly saw in their eyes that for a moment the truth was about to descend into words, then it was turned into a false oblivion, or indifference. „I do not remember, what are you doing now, let's not talk about the past, I am busy, come back next month” ...
Every such time people add stone of silence and solitude in the face of the world.
But what if I were to asked similar questions? Could I tell someone, even after years, that I hated one of his or her answers, or a look, or the fact that once in a coffee shop his or her coffee was foamier than mine? To admit and share the childish moment, the stupid little gesture that drove us apart?
Maybe I could try sometimes, if asked. If someone would guarantee a minimum of 100 words mandatory to exchange after such a moment of truth. If I opened my soul, however mean of a soul it would turn out to be, and then the person in front of me turned his/her back and went away, I could not bear it...
What if we were on a small island from where we cannot leave until we are honest with each other?
Cum ar fi daca cuvintele ar exprima gandurile, fara cenzura? Daca conversatiile reale si sincere, jumatatile de conversatie pe care le adresam in gand celor din fata noastra ar cobora pe buze inainte sa le oprim in acel loc aglomerat, inchis cu lacatul bunului-simt, politetii, ipocriziei…Caci dupa ani de antrenamente devine totul o ipocrizie reflexa.
Nu regret ca nu am jignit mai mult, ca nu am “trantit adevaruri” in fata. Sau cateodata regret, dar nu despre asta e vorba acum...
Dar am clar in cap momente in care simteam nevoia de a spune ceea ce nu se spune de obicei, si o curiozitate nemasurata de a vedea si la interlocutorul meu cum sare lacatul, macar pentru o clipa. Momente ca acelea cand astepti o ploaie dupa seceta si zapuseala.
Cateodata am facut un pas spre ele. Am revenit asupra unor foste prietenii (nu relatii sentimentale, ci prietenii) sa intreb dupa ani de zile de ce...De ce ne-am indeparatat? De ce ne-am certat de fapt? Ce a fost in capul tau atunci? Aveam o curiozitate imensa macar sa aflu, acum cand nu mai era manie sau suparare, ce a fost. Sa aflu parerea celeilalte parti. Daca macar privind inapoi, putem povesti despre adevarata cearta.
Inca nu am reusit asta cu nimeni. E ca si cum as incerca sa scot o carte aflata la baza unei gramezi, toate celelalte venite pe urma in timp o apasa si o tin prizoniera. Am vazut clar priviri in care pentru o clipa adevarul era gata sa coboare in vorbe, apoi ele se transformau intr-o falsa uitare, sau nepasare. Nu mai stiu, ce mai faci tu azi, hai sa nu vorbim despre trecut, cauta-ma luna viitoare...
De fiecare data cand ne regizam astfel adaugam inca o piatra de tacere si singuratate lumii.
Dar daca m-ar intreba ei pe mine? As putea sa spun cuiva, fie si dupa ani, ca nu mi-a placut o replica, o privire, faptul ca la o iesire cu prietenii a primit cafeaua cu mai multa spuma? Sa recunosc si sa povestesc momentul, fie el cat de copilaros, in care m-am indepartat?
Poate ca as incerca cateodata. „provided”, nah, ca imi vine cuvantul in engleza...daca ar fi garantat ca nu imi intoarce spatele in clipa urmatoare. Ca suporta, ca mai schimbam un minim de sa zicem 100 de cuvinte dupa...
Daca am fi pe o insula mica de unde sa nu putem pleca pana nu suntem sinceri unii cu altii?
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