I am Quiet

Dearest Roommate,

What will you say at my funeral? Will you even attend? What will you answer when the inevitable question comes up: “Why?” Do you even know enough about me to offer up an explanation, or will you turn your head away in shame? Will you know the part you contributed, that it was you who set me off time and time again?

Let’s start over. Hello, it’s nice to meet you. Now it’s your turn, say it’s nice to meet me too. What major are you? How has your day been? Let’s start a conversation.

Only you’re not capable of that, are you? Something in me sets you off, and you purse your lips and respond in the curtest way possible. Molecular biology. Fine. Your emotional poverty shines through; you can’t even afford a smile. We’ll chalk it up to a bad day and try again tomorrow.

How are you? Fine. Anything interesting happen today? No. Have you seen the latest Batman movie? Yes. What did you think? Good.

How’s your day been? Okay. Just okay?

How are you this fine Thursday evening? Good. That’s good. Anything in particular make you happy? No.

Hi there! Hi.

Soon we stop talking all together. What’s the point? I was looking for a connection, but instead you bequeathed doubt upon my mind. I see you talking to our other housemates, to those you call your friends, and conclude that the flaw must be in me.

There’s something wrong with me, some reason to avoid contact or casual conversation. I fear that you see me, the real me, beneath all the layers of feigned outward confidence. You see there’s no point in being friendly, because I won’t be here much longer…I’m not all here to begin with.

I shouldn’t blame you for being wise, for protecting yourself from me. Everyone else is a fool; it’s better to never have loved at all than to have loved and lost. They don’t see what you do, that I’m a loss waiting on the courage to happen.


What if my ever-slipping grasp on reality didn’t have to result in black skies and knotted fingers? What if someone could show me how to live half-alive? Would you take that chance — risk getting hurt in order to ground my desperation?

I guess we’ll never find out if you were the one who could have saved me. Here’s to wishing you a clean conscience..

I am quiet