Saturday, October 9, 2010

What you don’t know about me, what you take for granted the most is when you tell me stories.

When you tell me the things about your life, you think I’m like everyone else. You think that I’m only listening politely. You think that I’m just waiting for my turn to talk.

Sometimes I wish you could see what happens to me when you start to tell another one of those amazing stories about you, about the one person I love to hear about more than anyone.

When you start to tell me a story about you, about a time in your life that I wasn’t there, that’s the time that it happens.

I creep behind your eyes, I listen to your words, and while you’re painting me a picture of how it was, while you’re telling me about how his eyes looked, what words he used, what happened while you were reliving the best memories of your life, while your eyes get far away, the shine of memories upon them, your eyes smiling brightly into a past only you know, that’s the time it happens.

That’s when I creep behind your eyes, and the story plays like a movie in my head. You are always the star, the hero, the reason behind everything wonderful.

And I wonder if my stories ever sound this way to you.

But I don’t want to know, because they probably don’t. My stories probably don’t do much more than hit your eyes, then die on the floor.

9 comments:

Mr London Street said...

As somebody who's been lucky enough to hear your stories for well over a year, that seems unlikely to me. You could just as easily be describing anybody who listens to you.

slommler said...

Some stories can die but most have such life and vigor!! Yours are full of life!!
Hugs
SueAnn

PM Taylor said...

You've summed up something I've felt but have never been able to express as eloquently ... well done ... and I truly doubt your words have ever fallen upon uninterested ears ...

PMTaylor

Maryx said...

I'm with PM Taylor on this one... =)

otherworldlyone said...

Couldn't have said it any better than MLS, love.

sobby said...

i agree with PM taylor.i bet you your stories are wonderful.and guess what,your word wend through my heart.you realy put some life it.

kranki said...

Lovely, bittersweet post.
I remember that feeling of hearing a story and caring for the person so much that you're jealous that you aren't one of the characters in the story. *Nostalgia swoon*

Alpha Betti said...

I remember this feeling, every bit of it. I felt like I had been hit by lightning. And I had. It was lethal. My stories died on the floor and I got out before I joined them.

This post took my breath away.

Felicity said...

Beautiful. :)