Misanthropy

A lot of people misinterpret silence for mystery. Apparently a reluctance for talking is often perceived as an indication of complexity, deliberation and a simmering intelligence: If they aren’t talking, the mind is working.

I have to say no. A majority of the time muteness is simply a sign that there is nothing left to say. Perhaps the assumptions and misinterpretations are a defence against the obvious: there is nothing left deserving of words.

The poor friends of someone who has decided to admit defeat and accept that the past is nothing but a cover. All those reunions, get-togethers, whatever you want to call them. Sitting around talking about the mundane present that no one honestly wants to listen to because it no longer involves them. Each person reveals the new details of their evolving life while everyone else waits for their turn to speak. Soon enough the conversation turns into reminiscing because the same story has been repeated too many times: new friends, new job, new school and perhaps a boyfriend thrown in somewhere along the way.

All the while, there’s that one person with an indifferent look on their face; the one who won’t participate. The one who knows that there is no point in talking because there is nothing real to say. The one who’s decided ‘why go through the motions?’

Of course it’s only a natural instinct to want to still meet up with old friends. Holding on to a part of the past seems to be a part of the progression. After all, these are the people that witnessed the landmarks of your life- all the first times that are best left forgotten but are too funny to be left alone.  Who doesn’t want to forget about the intimidation of the present by reviving the absurdity of the past?

But what happens when all the stories have been told and re-told? Time filling. Nonsense chitchat to mask the fact that, really, there is nothing to say anymore. But still, in a matter of time the same effort is going to be made to regroup and immerse everyone in the same irrelevance.  And there will still be that one with the arid look, who is considered the perplexed, interestingly introverted one, who will say nothing. Because the one thing that is left to say is too mean and spiteful to tell the people who are happier in denial: it needs to be let go of.

Lauren Sassella is a young Australian writer who has recently been published in numerous poetry anthologies across the US. She has also had similar success with her essays.

Email: Lauren Sassella

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