Water

An old lady kept glancing at her as if she wanted to say something with her. She felt that that woman desperately wanted to break the awkwardness when people sit side by side in the waiting area by everyday conversation. But she didn’t open her mouth. She nodded in a friendly way when the lady took the seat next to her and went back to her phone to find the playlist she would listen to while waiting. And that felt good, felt right holding herself from the talking because she decided not to do unnecessary movements and words just to keep her appearance or serve others’ mood. Or just to ease the atmosphere.

“Not Talking” had been her weapon and her armor. She crawled into her space by shutting her mouth or punished someone by denying the response, while her brain hammered the words of blaming herself or accusing others. But this time, it was the different “Not Talking”. Her brain was clear and her mood was calm. The former action was like damming the flow to others and locking herself in, but this time was more like containing herself in the deep reservoir full of conscious water.

During past several years, many things had happened to her, but those things were more inside than outside. It was like that giant water tank of mind was filling up gradually to the point that it moved with heavy motions. She could feel something inside swaying, pulsing, and rocking with its own weight. She felt contained and didn’t want to let them seep through by letting herself react to every outer stimulus which didn’t necessarily expect her response or benefit from her reaction. So now, she was calm and quiet observing her inner water rising and its graceful motion. What did this mean or where was it headed? She didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that she didn’t want to spill now. She was waiting for it to overflow with time by itself.

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