Half Sentences

Half sentences

When it came to the big stuff, he dealt in half sentences. Intense thoughts diluted with the subsequent, unnecessarily common ‘uhh’s and ‘you know’s.

But then there were those days. The times when he did put it all out there. I could see of course that it wasn’t easy for him. He made faces and weirdly funny noises like some sort of a warm up before slowly, painstakingly, spelling it out for me, because of course every time he said ‘well, you know…’ like some sort of explanation, I didn’t know. And said as much while shooting him an amused, confused look.

Other times he would say it all with a straight face, like he was up on a stage doing a part, simply parroting off dialogues. Of course that wasn’t what he was doing, but I suppose it made it easier for him to pretend he was. When eventually he couldn’t pretend anymore and became self aware, he’d immediately look down, or straight ahead—anywhere but at me—until he was back to being on stage. Sometimes I’d laugh and that would break through the detached stage thing and he’d look at the table, or at his hands on the table or straight ahead if we were walking, or stick his tongue out and make funny noises as some sort of a get-it-together!-mechanism.

Of course I hadn’t noticed any of it until he pointed it out—that he couldn’t not look anywhere else when telling me something like that. I hadn’t given it much thought until he mentioned it. Adorable from someone who was always (and annoyingly so), always so sure of himself.

When it comes to the big stuff, I deal in half sentences too—if at all. It isn’t like me to say things. I prefer writing them down. That way it’s easy to erase them, tear it up and pretend it never existed in the first place.

I think he knows that, I don’t know.

Yours Truly,



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