Listen– then speak.
I am not a confident person. Usually, I don’t talk. In class, I’d rather be sitting in one corner, listening to the professor talk for an endless hour. Listening to the sound of the wind carrying her voice that drowns us to sleep, listening to my classmates’ scratching pens on papers, listening to footsteps of the students outside the four corners of my hell of a place classroom, listening to the frantic pressing of the phone screen hidden under the desk of my seatmate, listening to the silent snores of the guy sitting in front of me, listening to my own breathing, just- listening.
When I’m with my friends, I listen, too. I like how their words will raze my ears. I like the process of the air forming words and the words reaching comprehension within me. It’s a weird process. I like it. And I like especially when their words carry me to a new enlightenment. I like how I understand them. To the core.
But I seldom talk. Like– talk. Because sometimes when I say things to them, I’d receive a blank look. Or better yet, I’d get some very helpful advices. Like:
Me: Isn’t it strange to realize that you can be somebody at all?
Me: I mean, you’re bounded to every unique core. You’re different. We’re all different.
Friend: That’s pretty obvious, though. Of course we’re all different. Even identical twins are different.
Me: Yes. But I mean, you can be somebody in the world of somebodies. Heck, isn’t it strange that we can be anything at all? Isn’t it a strange thing to realize?
Friend: Isn’t it a strange thing to realize that you might not be getting some sleep? Get some sleep. Please.
I appreciate their concern. Really, I do. So, I don’t talk much. Because when I do, I don’t think someone will get them. I speak, though. But I don’t talk. I can follow up a conversation as lightly as I can. I don’t like to go deep, it will not end good.