I want to talk to you. Need to talk to you. I do. Constantly.
I need to keep it inside me, but I do talk to you. It fills my days, my nights. Remember what I've told you? Look, did you notice this? You answer. I want you to answer. Want to hear your voice. Need to hear it.
Want to see the dismay, the gentle reproach on your face, when I misbehave. When I do something that is not bit good. Please.
I do not beg. Never have. Did not think I ever would.
But then everything changed. I met you. Lost you.
I do not beg.
But I wish there was someone to beg to.
Only you.
I talk to you. Hear me. Did you see that? What do you think of this? If you were here now, what would you say?
I know, don't I? I know what you would say. I know you. Don't I?
Never knew I wanted someone to understand. Never knew I needed you to understand.
Until everything changed.
Until you said 'I don't even know your name.'
You know so much more.
Everything fills with words. My mind is cluttered, full of speech to you. I struggle to make room, to clear a space for myself, for my thoughts. For the work.
But the talk is everywhere. The things I must say to you crowd me.
Everything I see. Everything I hear. Every thought I think just creates more of it.
More things I need to tell you.
And when I lie down, eyes closed to process it all, to put everything in its place, even that, even that, I must tell you.
I cannot talk to you.
I take long walks in the woods. Run. To talk to you. When I know no one can hear me I can finally talk to you. Say your name. Your name! Tell you everything.
I beg you to answer. I beg you to tell me what you think.
No, I don't.
Because you're not there to beg to.
He says I'm losing it. Says he didn't think he could be more worried about me. He had thought that you would save me. Now he believes you will ruin me.
He is an idiot. I am tied to him. For now. He ruined my life. It does not matter. It would not matter. If there wasn't the talk.
I am bursting with it. And yet. There is the hollow.
Where you don't answer.
I did not need you. Did not need anybody. There was the work. There was nicotine. A violin. That was all. No need for anything more. For nothing, do you understand?
Now I need you.
I can contain it, the need. I can. Keep it in its place, step away from it. It works.
Except for the talk.
I talk to you. Constantly.
Will you forgive me for what I've done? I know you will. I know it. You must. I know it.
You will understand why I did what I did. If you don't, no one will.
No one else needs to.
Only in the morning, when I'm groggy, the eyes unfocused, the mind muffled. When it's not light yet, but not dark either, only then do I question it. Only then I am. I am. Afraid. I am afraid that you will not forgive me. That you have moved on. That you will not understand me.
That I would be where I was. Alone. With the work, the nicotine, the violin. It would not be enough. It was plenty.
You do understand me, don't you? And you will forgive. I know it.
He says he is disappointed in me. He always is. I don't mind. I tell him nothing. He has his ways of finding out.
He tells me nothing. I have my ways of finding out.
He reminds me it's a weakness. An affliction. I say nothing. Later I tell you what I think. I am sure you would laugh.
Point out his failings, his mistakes. He shuts up. I smile to myself. Let me share my smile with you.
Did you notice the lipstick on the corner of the man's mouth? Did you see the way her left heel is more worn than the right one? Look, see the waiter? See what he did? Do you know what it means? Tell me. Say it. Please. Say it.
Did not know I wanted to hear it before you said it.
Now I need to hear it. From your lips. I need to see your lips when you say it. Please. Tell me.
Tell me what you think of me. Please.
How easy it would be to go on. And it is. If it wasn't for the talk.
Remember the woman? I often think about her now. Not her. You. Remember how you thought I was interested in her? I was. She was intelligent. Perceptive. She had made a profession out of knowing things and playing with people. I often wondered how come you didn't realise that's what intrigued me. Now I know.
It was fear. You were afraid that I did not understand you.
I often think about her now. Because she is the reason I know that you need me to understand you. Like I need you to. Like I need you.
I talk too much. Ramble. The paths intertwine, loop. I am where I started. I need to talk to you.
It's all right. I know you will understand. There are things I must do. Work. For me. For both of us.
I am sure you will understand. That you will wait. And when everything is ready, I will come to you. You will be angry.
But you will forgive me. Because you understand. I know it.