Because… Just Because They Don’t Talk About It, Doesn’t Mean It’s Not There

What do we know?

We know the dishes they love to eat and how they love it. But what do we know about the images running through their head when they think of when they think about their Mother dies?

We know which kind of movie they would pick when they have a bad day, and how they react when the actors start to make things complicated. But what do we know what is the thing they whisper to their pillow more than anything else by the time they go to bed in those kinds of days before they fall asleep without warning?

We know the things they geek about, they talk about it over and over, don’t they? But what do we know what they feel about us when we lie on their side, sleeping and breathing quietly then slowly, a song that their past lover claimed to be their song was playing and a wave of memories catch them up once again?

We know their favorite colours, as we would pick things in that colours for their birthday gift. But, what do we know about the things they are afraid to lose as they become older, and how it haunts them in strange dreams they never talk about?

We know the way they laugh, and what kind of thing they find funny. But what do we know about how some things are changing in the way they see it when someone disappoints them before we meet them, and they are being too careful after that, with circumspections that made them who they are but not who they were?

We know how their relationship with their family, what they can’t stand from them, special activities they missed the most when it’s holiday and they can’t visit. But what do we know about how it would turn out every time they think they are not doing enough to make them proud and happy?

We know what kind of music they are listening to, they sing all the words and dance to it a lot on Sunday sunny morning. But what do we know what kind of life they would imagine when they are thinking about how the things would turn out if they do things differently?

We know how they think about astronomy being romanticized with poems about stars explosion and the unimaginable distance from each of solar system. But what do we know about how they feel when they think about disappearing into the unknown, leaving all the things behind, including us?

We know how crazy they could get when they cannot understand something, and how long they would spend time obsessing over it until they’re done with it. But what do we know how it saddens them when they know there are children dying in a war zone and they are having a nice warm meal on the table?

What do we know?

What do we know when they are all alone by themselves? What they see in themselves? What all those thoughts make them feel?

What do we know?


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