Walls

It struck me late last night just how expert I have become at constructing walls around myself. Rather than expand upon my own thoughts and feelings, I’m more likely to describe the world around me. The end result is often that I take the reader with me on adventures, but I am largely absent.

I’m not sure if I’m making any sense. Maybe none of this is supposed to make any sense.

I’m listening to “Solsbury Hill” by Peter Gabriel while writing this. I’m not sure why I’m telling you. Now I’ve told you, I’m reluctant to hold a finger down on the backspace key though. It turns out emptying my head directly into the keyboard is difficult. Weighing that which I might find interesting against what I think you might find interesting. I’m grinning now – because I have no idea who you might be.

Perhaps I should imagine you – sitting next to me in a quiet pub. The rain might be falling outside, and we are holed up with a couple of old paperback books for the afternoon. Next to us there is a shelf filled with old board games – chess, draughts, snakes and ladders – each missing a few playing pieces, and their boxes taped together at the corners. Now and again locals wander in from the rain, and order a drink at the bar. The barman has grey hair, and a kind word for everybody.

Maybe I can do this after all. Maybe I can start loosening a few bricks from the walls.

7 Replies to “Walls”

  1. I’m currently alone at home as you, but not lonely. I haven’t started missing the family yet but there is a very slight undercurrent of ‘hm, wonder what they’re doing right now, am I missing out?’ But not so much. Just a fleeting moment here and there. I yearned for solitude for a couple of weeks now and now that it’s here, I’m actually quite content.

    Your post sounds like you’re lonely. I hope you’re not slipping into a depression.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. One’s own thoughts and feelings are harder to articulate because they are part of an inner reference frame which has to be communicated first before they make sense to others. But perhaps quite a lot of that background has already leaked out to your readers and you can risk short-circuiting the context setting.
    Or I might have misunderstood what you are getting at in this post…
    Poetry can be a good medium, though I think it may require more time and effort than your current life permits.
    A /quiet/ pub with some time to spare and someone with whom to converse. That’s a rare luxury – perhaps you need a holiday like that.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. In the beginning of my blog, I think I wrote more head emptying posts. Now I feel like I don’t know what to share there because so many people come looking for different things. Or perhaps not. My anxiety issues make me overthink everything and I tend to want to please everyone. I used to think that when people disappeared from visiting my blog that it was me, but after experiencing my own need to pull back and reassess my path, I can see how perhaps it is about them and not their disinterest in me (if that makes any sense).
    What would those paperbacks be? Surely not The Catcher in the Rye. 😉 Then we’d have to converse about conspiracy theories and make sure that the locals shaking the rain out of their hair weren’t really spies. lol.

    Like

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