Bookmark #634

When you grow up reading books or digesting films into your very being, a lot of good comes out of it. One glaring issue remains, though: dialogue. You read books, and you think people talk like this, that most people will give you complete responses, that most conversations would be a delight simply because of how people express themselves. And then, you move into the world and realise how you set yourself up for failure. Inadequacies, directness, and an arrogant and proud ignorance of how to express oneself are rampant. Most people talk with such a lack of flair that talking to them seems like a pointless affair. There is little to no awareness, let alone acceptance, that even conversation is an art. You must know a little wordplay to make it enthusing, and more than that, you must know the value of timing. This is a privileged complaint, of course. Many do not have people to talk to, so it is in bad taste to have that and crib over it. But then, my dissatisfaction with most conversations I have is so perpetually large that it seems my entire life is slowly leaving something to be desired.

How beautiful it is that we have several languages, words that migrate from one to another, and expressions that know no home? Yet, most people gloss over all that and only talk of the brass tacks, and a large chunk of them even leave gaps between what is essential. People are messy and dirty, and their words reek of their insecurities. Friendships are based on a meagre list of topics; no one reads or thinks enough to break those barriers. It is a subliminal pain when you sit across a person and know the perfect way to phrase something they are sharing with you, and then they use a rather pedestrian way to say it! You sit there, screaming internally: the metaphor was right there. It was served to you five minutes ago. But most people seldom look around enough to know how to talk about what they want to talk about. Most, if not all, the world is at a severe lack of words, and some of us are so full of them that we’re bursting at our seams.

It is a painful life where only the characters talk like you’d expect people to talk; and when people talk, all you want to do is leave.