Life?  I’m Rubbish At It

          The light reflects off the puddles, silver pools of ominous delights.  Somebody was laughing, a party?  She was probably at a party, enjoying herself.  Without me.  I just stare out the window watching puddles.  Mr Exciting.

      There are a million things I want to say to her.  The most eloquent, beautiful words, but do they ever come out of my mouth?  Do they heck.

      With other people I’m fine, the words pile out like nonsense, but with her, with her it’s like a damn’s been built and nothing can force its way through.

      It could be beautiful.

      It could be magnificent.

      But instead I’m here staring at puddles, and her, her, she’s, I try not to think about it, but I can’t help it.  Every second, every moment, of every day she’s there, inside my head.  That smile, those eyes.

      And I can’t even bring myself to say a few words.

      But what would happen if I did, if I miraculously became brave and the words came out, what would happen then?  What if she laughed?

      I think too much.

      But I can’t help it; it’s the way I’m wired.

      I wish I could be that dashing debonair guy, whisk her off her feet without a single word, see those eyes light up, that smile take over a room.  But I’m not that guy.  I’m just me, and little me doesn’t do that kind of thing.

      It’s not self pity, its frustration.  I want to be all that, but something holds me back.  The slightest obstacle, the tiniest hurdle and I’m put off, sidetracked, distracted.  Take the puddles for example, why on earth am I staring at puddles?  What possible good could it be doing me?  I could be with her, but no, I’m here, on my own, staring at puddles on the street below.

      What the hell is wrong with me?

      The other day there was a moment, just a fleeting one, eyes met, she smiled, words dried up, tongue became unworkable, I might even have dribbled.  I felt like a fool, but her smile didn’t falter, her gaze stayed true.  My heart nearly exploded, I became short of death, I felt sick, and yet I felt amazing.  In that one fleeting moment nothing mattered, the rest of the world didn’t exist.

      These moments I live for.

      I wish I had the ability to say something, anything, after the fact a million things came into my head, but they’re no good to me now!  What use is the funniest thing in the universe now?  I needed it then, at that precise moment when my brain froze and my greatest achievement in achievement was a grunt.

      A grunt?

      How am I supposed to impress her with a grunt?

      Under the light of a streetlamp a couple embrace.  I feel like a voyeur, as if I’m watching life going on around me and not really taking part.  Maybe it’s safer that way?  I won’t get hurt.  Maybe I need to hurt?  If I was hurting at least I’d know I was living.

      But it scares me.

      Right to the core.

      All that hurt, all that pain, all those emotions.  Maybe it is safer to hide from life?  Be the outsider, the wallflower.  Admit defeat and cocoon myself away.

      But what if she came through that door right now?

      She probably wouldn’t even notice me, glide right past, leave me spinning in her wake.  And I’d probably thank her for it, for allowing me to breathe the same air.

      Now if she was to speak.

      Don’t expect me to reply, or engage in conversation, that ability would’ve deserted me long before she opened her mouth.

      Nod.

      I could maybe manage a nod.

      A smile might contort my face into something hideous.

      I’d probably just stare, and hope my jaw doesn’t fall open.

      The couple under the streetlamp drift apart, she hesitates and looks back to him, but he keeps walking.  She puts her hands deep inside her jacket pockets and drifts off into the night.

      Would she notice if I kept walking?

      Would anybody?

      The bank manager and my landlord, they’d notice.

      Maybe.

      I must talk to her, next time I will.  All the words I’ve built up, all the things I’ve meant to say will pour out and she’ll fall into my arms.  That’s how I imagine it anyway.

      I’m always making these promises to myself, it’s always today will be the day, but it never is.  Some tiny little insignificant thing will always put me off.  The grand romantic gestures that formulate in my head, but never see the light of day.

      She’s be the centre of my universe, a goddess that I’d worship, up on that unobtainable pedestal, but the chances of that happening, well it’s me we’re talking about, so what do you think?

      Grand schemes and gestures, words left unspoken, all because I have no backbone.

      Why can’t I just say it?

      Say the words out loud.

      Make them real.

      To myself, in a lonely room or the car don’t exactly count.

      But then again who would listen?  Who would care?  It’s just words, just rambling nonsense, but words that could change my life forever, alter its direction.  But while they remain inside my head they mean nothing, powerless, restless, eating away at me.

      I know they need to be out, to be set free, but fear keeps them locked inside, powerless and meaningless.

      I think too much, I should just blurt it out, no thought process, no deliberation, just let them come, flow on their own and do their damage.

      Just tell her.

      Tell her.

      Let it all out.

      That’s what I should do.

      Bare heart and soul.

      But I know that I won’t.

      Trapped in their prison.

      The words will stay hidden.

      Aaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!!

      Why can’t I just do it?

      I try to tell myself they’re just words, but they’re words that terrify me.  Yet they don’t have the power of her smile, just a slight glimpse of it and I’m turned to jelly, quaking legs and palpitations.  I’m sure I turn a colour brighter than the sun.  I try and tell myself to act cool, play it low key, but me and cool don’t exactly go together.  So my attempts at being cool probably make me look like a complete fool.  She probably wouldn’t notice the difference.

      The silvery puddles start to dance frenetically as the rain intensifies.  It rattles against the window.  The odd shadows flash down the street as they run from light to light trying to avoid the downpour.  Other people always seem to move with such purpose, as if they know exactly where they’re heading and how to get there.  I wish I could be like that.  Maybe if I was more like that I’d have the courage to speak to her, to ask her the question that terrifies me.

      I think too much.

      I tie myself up in knots with all these thoughts.  Make myself so I don’t know which way to turn, which way’s up or which way’s down.  In the end I’m so confused I end up doing nothing.  Seems like the safest option, I like safe.  It’s reassuring, comfortable.  It’s me all over.

      But I need to make a decision, I will I’ll make a decision; I’ll talk to her, that’s it, yes.  I’ll just come right out with it, tell her how I feel, put it out there and see how she reacts.

      Yes.  That’s what I’ll do.

      At some point.

      Maybe tomorrow.

      If she’s not too busy.

      And I can find the time.

      That’s the closest I ever get to being decisive, I mean, God alone knows what I’d do if I managed to get the words out and she said yes.  To be honest I haven’t really thought it out that far, I’m having enough trouble with the word hello.  A conversation could be a whole nightmare.

      Where would I start?

      What would I say?

      What if I came across as an idiot?

      What if the words wouldn’t come?

      What if they do come and I can’t stop them, if they flow like a torrent.  Endless, endless words all flowing after each other, tumbling to get out.  Just utter nonsense again and again.

      If I don’t say anything I’m a fool, if I say too much I’m an idiot, either way I’m doomed.

      Maybe silence is the safest option after all?

      But silence is what leaves me staring through streaked windows at puddles in a deserted street.

      But silence is what keeps me safe, silence is what I know, silence is what drives me insane, makes these thoughts rattle round my brain, creates more and more just to fill that silence, each one chasing the other, criss-crossing, charging, racing, occasionally colliding, getting jumbled up, mixed and matched until I’m completely bewildered and all this happens in a split second, almost every second.  All in an attempt to fill the silence.

      Yet when she smiles.

      When she smiles there’s nothing.  Not even silence.

      Just her.

      I’d do almost anything just for that smile.

      I wish I could say it out loud, say it to her.  Such simple words, just let them dance off my tongue, make that smile meant for me, let me bask in its glow.

      Instead I dream, I imagine, I live through a fantasy of what could be if only I had the guts to say some words out loud.

      Say it!  Say it!  Say it!

      Part of me screams, yearns for the dream to be real, but that part is very, very small, far outweighed by my cowardly part.  But you know all this, I know all this.  It just gets repeated over and over again, mainly because I’m a coward, but also because she’s always there, always in my head.  Every time I close my eyes it’s her I see, every time I wake the first thought that comes into my head is her.  I try not to, I try to think of something completely different, but it’s like it’s my default setting and my brain always reverts back to it.  Not that I’m complaining, I think I could have far worse obsessions.

      But what do I do with it?

      If I confront the obsession and I’m rebuked, where do I go from there?

      I think too much.

      Far too much.

      Without the obsession am I truly me?

      With her will I be different?

      I think too much.

      I just want to be with her.

      To hold her.

      To see that smile.

      To experience the simple things.

      To be around.

      That’s it!

      This time for definite.

      I’m going to say something.

      I’m going to come right out with it, tell her how I feel.

      Tomorrow.

      Yes tomorrow.

      When I see her, that smile, those eyes.

      I’ll finally free those words, let them do their worst.

      No more thinking.

      Just deeds.

      Tomorrow.

      The phone starts ringing, an interruption to my thoughts, a distraction to the churning, but then that voice, her voice sounds in my ear.  My world is sent spinning, my head is reeling, my heart beats like a huge bass drum.  A thousand connotations speed through my brain in a millisecond.  Must control them, must contain them.  Don’t sound stupid, just don’t say something stupid.  Don’t think too much, don’t think.

      Breath held, heart stopped, she utters three little words, just three little words and my world changes forever.  The puddles no longer have a fascination.  Just three little words sound in my ear.

      “I was thinking.”