Anatomy Of A Phone Call.

"Hey."
"Hey back to you. (2s) Is something wrong? It's 1 in the morning."
"No... (0.5) no! Nothing's wrong. (0.3) Umm."

Yes there is. Something's wrong with me. Something's wrong with us. But I don't know how to explain it, and that is part of the problem too.

"Oh, right. (2) Okay then. (1.5) So... (0.8) what's up?"
"Nothing much.. (1.2) Just can't seem to sleep."

I don't know. I can't sleep. I want to hear the sound of your voice, but I am afraid to tell you that too. What's happened to us?

"Oh. (1.8) So you.. (0.5) you want to talk?"
"Sorry.. (1.8) It's okay. (0.8) It's late and you have work tomorrow."

I want to talk. I want to talk to you so much. But I don't think I can anymore. What happened to the days when we used to talk for the sake of hearing each others' voices? We'd talk about anything just to keep each other on the line. Must there now be something up before we call each other? When did our first reaction to late night calls become to assume something was wrong instead of that initial heady delight of yet more time together, airtime, anytime?

"Yeah. (0.4) Sorry babe, I had a really long day today."
"Yeah. (0.1) No, don't worry about it, I'll see you tomorrow for dinner yeah?"

I don't know when we became so apologetic to each other. So polite to each other. Like we've become afraid of offending each other, but we're afraid of admitting that we're afraid too. When did a love that seemed so strong become so fragile? Why can't we discuss our fears honestly any longer, when did all this fear about us creep in? Maybe if I figure out when and why and how it's happened we can turn back the clock. Maybe tomorrow can be the distant past.

"Mmm. (0.5) Of course you will. (2.4) Good night dear."
"...(1.2) Yeah. (1.7) Good night."

And sweet dreams. I don't know what's wrong, I don't know what's happening, what's happened to us. Tomorrow is going to be incrementally worse than today and I don't think I will be able to call you again tomorrow night. How is it possible that I've never felt more lonely than when I was on the phone with you? Why can't I seem to share what's going on with me here, now, when we used to share all our hopes and dreams, and fears too? I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I know it's not going to get any better. What happened to all the tomorrows we were going to spend, to the life we were going to take on together? What happened to the future we've forgotten?



*The numbers in brackets () are, in numbers of seconds, an attempt to capture silence as text.
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I read the other day this phrase - the sickness of long thinking - which seems to perfectly describe melancholia. Sometimes, at least, it does, I think.

A curious melancholy had settled onto me yesterday, as I woke up at 3pm and wondered what I was going to do with the remains of the day. A couple of clicks on my laptop later I stumbled upon the song White Fire by Angel Olsen, a dark, spare song which determined my mood. Which resulted in "A Tree, A Life, A Shout. Silence."

It is completely fictional, as I had not thought to point out, and it is not cause for alarm. Not something I'd expected, but looking back at it I can see how it might be concerning, so VMT Anonymous for that. I did reply in an entirely elaborate fashion, the point being, don't worry!

I have been fascinated for some time with the philosophical question of whether "If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?" as a metaphor for a person's life without anyone else around. No one to care for, no one who cares about. A life completely alone.

So that super-short story was kind of a thought experiment, and also one in literary style. Inspired, I think, by those gripping first-person narratives like Clockwork Orange or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, also the scariest ones. Guess it was way too short to have been obvious as a story, and fiction, and I wanted that element of dark, believable, realism.

And this here story is inspired in part by my stumbling on a completely new Mogwai song called Music For A Forgotten Future, linked from Angel Olsen to Sleep Party People to Mogwai's Take Me Somewhere Nice. Serendipity.

Also one of those thoughtcatalogue articles (have I ever mentioned how irritated I am by the proliferation of those on my newsfeed, as well as their declining quality I feel) which tried to explain the difference between being alone and lonely. Loneliness is most devastating when you're not supposed to be, when it takes you unawares, when you're not even alone.

That's what this story is about, hopefully. One big disclaimer here: Never been in a relationship myself so you know this is completely 100% fictional and possibly totally bogus as well. It is purely from imagination, trying to imagine what a relationship a-ways past the initial stages of being in love could feel like, what a phone call like that would sound like.

It is about fear, insecurity, fear of insecurity. Being too afraid to open up, being guarded with the ones you love the most. The people who care the most are the last people you're willing to open up to. Of caring so much you're afraid to let the people you care for know it. About distant pasts, forgotten futures.

It is not about me.

Hope you enjoyed it.