Friday, 8 July 2011

The Night Train

When - not drunk but maybe slightly tipsy - I sit on the train alone, looking at my own self reflected against the darkness of night London outside, all the myriad voices in my head aline, and my thoughts speak like the narrative of a book. I am suddenly looking me in the eye.
I am not a pretty girl, cheeks too broad and skin too pale (like death, rather than like cream), but maybe I am handsome in my own way.
I lack the social skills needed to recommend myself to strangers, it takes a long time to turn an acquaintance into a friend - longer even than that process usually takes. Yet once I become confident in someones company, or interested enough in what they may have to say to breech my own reticence, I am intelligent enough to be vaguely interesting - or at least I am quick enough to feign it and thus avoid being branded dull. 
So I cannot be entirely incompetent; I just cannot do small talk - that currency of companionship is beyond me. I never know what to ask, or how to form a reply in such a way that conversation may ensue. I am a dead end, except in those occasional circumstances when an easy entry for discussion makes itself apparent early on. Worse still, my shyness often manifests itself as loud, brash and sarcastic - a symptom unlike the disease hiding behind it, but even more off-putting to those around me.
Thinking, thinking in time to the movements of the train, thoughts unfurling between stops going homeward.
A jack of all trades - to flighty to decide even on which aspect of my own personality to lie my head for more than a moment, so how is it that I have found another - an entirely separate human being, whom I am so sure of, whom I want to spend all of my slice of eternity with?
I have though - I have found him - the most marvellous man, who will talk when all I do is get stuck by the words which never escape the confines of my own head. A man who charms everyone he meets, when I cannot even meet anyone at all. It's brilliant, watching him, knowing that someone so like me yet so unlike me exists - it gives me hope for myself.
I have no idea what he sees in me, or why he likes me, but I trust that he does because he says that he does. It is the most wonderful, indescribable thing - even with this sudden clarity of mind from a little alcohol and the darkness of the world I cannot find words to explain the ballooning feeling in my chest brought on my his presence in my life. It makes the everything else of life worth enduring, knowing that in the quiet I can spend a few occasional seconds wrapped in the knowledge of him.

3 comments:

  1. There are others out there who find small talk a bind, believe me, you are not alone there-I just can't express it so beautifully xx hugs, Starflash

    ReplyDelete
  2. Daughetr you are to hard on your self, I know why Wolf loves you smae raeson as me and Dad do, because no mater how hard you try to hide it, you are beautiful, intelligent,lovely and very thoughtful,think qulits for new babies in our family, lovey playing with neice & nephew at crimbo, and on and on. Whatever you think you are very loved by many people xxxx

    ReplyDelete
  3. You look gorgeous to me and I'm not even your mother. Also, you're great company and I was lucky to have you on my team during OHM.

    So there!

    ReplyDelete