The Things You Don't Say

Sep 13, 2010 04:14

Upon untangling the jumbled mess of Christmas tree lights that are my memories, I find several phrases pop up somewhat frequently. "I'm not that good" and "I wish I could say it better" are the gist of these commonalities. Ever modest, you don't realize how well you indeed "say it."

Before I truly begin, I'd like to state that this particular thought spawned through my usual pointless and cyclical thought process. I contemplated briefly on my belief that an attribute of love is being a proverbial mirror to someone else. I won't go into much detail, especially as I've previously made an entry in this same journal touching on these thoughts. The point is that my wanderlust mind led me to dwell on the concept of reflection. Reflection, and of course, the interpretation of it.

These thoughts led to the concept of interpretation, which is what I intend to elaborate on.

Try not to worry any longer over your self proclaimed inability to properly express yourself. I'd like to convince you that you are in actuality quite accomplished, albeit not in terms of vocabulary. No... you may not use a variety of words, you may not be suave, and you may sometimes not even speak at all. But darling, there is no clarification necessary when it comes to interpreting your expression.

Pursed lips can mean anything from, "I'm torn because I'm enjoying the attention and affection, but I don't like that you're making fun of me" to "Why are you making me wait? You know how incredibly impatient I am and I want you now."

Likewise, furrowed eyebrows vary in interpretation largely ranging from, "I'm tremendously concerned about your well being" to "This is the face I make in an attempt to make you pity me, thus resulting in you giving me the consolation I don't particularly need but I pretty much do anything for an excuse to score an ego boost."

Your body language is easily your strongest indicator of many of your thoughts and desires. The subtlest display can speak volumes more than a descriptive catalog of your emotions. The glint in your eyes tells me you're interested in something mischievous and the smirk playing across your face while you bite your lower lip confirms this notion. Your arms drape themselves across my shoulders informing me of your interest in potentially instigating something, whether it be something as innocent as gentle kissing and cuddling or as crass as the horizontal monster mash, however, is something you want to leave in my judgment. But then a hand ghosts down my spine to rest in the small of my back, pulling me forward until our hips bump and my previous assumption of your submission is fleeting. This is when I realize you're issuing a false challenge. You want me to think you want to be in charge so I'll come on stronger, don't you? Vaguely aware that these mind games and issued by myself and are most assuredly only messing with my own mind, my hand deftly climbs up your body to rest firmly in your hair and pull you until your lips are pressed firmly against mine. A sharp intake of breath, the arch of your back and your nails digging at my skin tell me that whatever happened before is irrelevant, and what you want is happening now.

As the expression goes, "It's not what you say, it's how you say it." In this case, it's possible to shine a positive light on this phrase. Words aren't important. In fact, most of the time words are pretty damn meaningless. In the end, it's about being understood. Much in the same way that you understand, "I really hate you, stupid ass" to mean something much different from the literal meaning, I do the same for your incoherent rambling and bizarre facial expressions.

Generally speaking, it's fairly easy to interpret your actions. Your heart pounding steadily in your chest, matching your shallow breathing. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your arms squeezed around my waist. Hot, erratic breaths tickle my ear as I murmur into yours. The way that right now, at this very minute,that you're reading this your eyebrows knit and you do a strange cross between biting your lip and wibbling it in an equally strange combination of reading this journal and remembering the variety of memories it is possibly referencing. You don't need a single word to adequately say anything when you already speak so articulately in alternative means.

The words are likely pointless, but...

I love you too.
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