We are having an argument. Something awful came up, I got angry, I said some things and you said some things. We keep saying things that we don't mean, and it keeps getting louder and louder until we just stop and stare at each other. The yelling stopped, and we are at a stand still. I don't understand where you're coming from, and you don't understand where I am coming from. Neither of us understand how each other's brains work, and it frustrates us. We don't know how to communicate in a way that will make all of this OK. I cannot make you see into my brain and just get how I'm feeling. And you can't do it either. We are sitting here, staring at one another without another word to say.
You are looking at me with those big, sad eyes, and you start to speak. I sit and listen and wonder how you are finding the words to speak. You speak so eloquently, so full of emotion and I just sit there. I sit there and stare at you, or past you, or not near you at all. I don't look at you, because I suddenly feel guilty. I feel guilty that you have the words that I do not have. I feel awful about my inability to form my thoughts and emotions into words. I hate myself for sitting in front of you, looking into your eyes and saying absolutely nothing.
I open my mouth ever so slightly, and your face is full of hope. Hope that this means I will talk to you. Hope that I will finally open up to you and let you know the dark, deep insides of my mind. But then, the moment is gone, and my mouth snaps shut again. I look down as though nothing had ever happened. I crack a joke because humor is the only way I know how to get through it. I smile at you and hope that the whole mess will go away. But it doesn't. Of course it doesn't; you're too determined and stubborn to let it go. Just like me. Unlike me, you have enough patience to sit in the silence and wait for me to come up with something to say. At this point, I know that you'll settle for absolutely anything that I say. I could speak in a totally different language, and it would satisfy you. But I say nothing. And please do not think that this is because I want to say nothing. Trust me, I really would like to talk to you. I would like to be able to open my stupid mouth and tell you what I'm thinking. But it isn't working. Nothing is happening, and no words are coming out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry," I mumble incoherently, not even loud enough for you to hear. I am apologizing not because I started the argument, overreacted or know that I am in the wrong. Many of those might be true, but that isn't why I'm sorry in this moment. Right now, I am so incredibly sorry that I can't talk to you. You are important to me, you know this. I know in my heart that you are one of the people that I trust most in the world, but I just cannot bring myself to speak. It might be because I have been hurt before, or because I have awful anxiety about talking in general, or just because I'm afraid that when I do start talking, you suddenly won't want to hear it. Most of the reasons stem from fear, and I hate it more than you do. I want to talk to you, but I can't find the right words that will make everything go away. And we both know that there are no right words to make the problem go away, but even knowing that, those are still the words I want to find. I want to find some magical cure to the problems arising in our relationship.
The magical words don't exist, and I just haven't grasped that yet. You need to understand that I want to talk, and I am really trying my hardest to find some way to talk. I am working on it. I'm going to spend a long time thinking about exactly what I want to say to you, and it is still going to somehow come out wrong. But I'm trying, and that is all I have right now. Please continue to be patient and tell me that you love me and just be there, ready and waiting for when I do find some words that are close enough to perfect.
