{ there's a chance i'll be too funny }

i've been thinking about what i'll say to you when we meet. sometimes i talk out loud as i drive, or to my reflection in the mornings when my hair is still wet from the shower. drivers in the next lane must think i'm singing to the radio. little do they know i'm reciting my own lyrics, written with my voice, never to be heard the same way again. these words are precious. moreso, they're priceless. no one will ever know they existed as they did the first time they were spoken. they may reach other ears in a revised form, but i am the sole witness to their birth. one day you may hear them, but their origin will always be mine, and mine alone.

i wonder if i'll be funny. there's a chance i'll be too funny, like a close call with a knife in the kitchen, sharp intake of breath and the giddy flood of relief that follows. you should know i cut sometimes. it's because i see the outline of your organs and am often too intent on reaching them to notice how deep i went. but the coolness of every blade is tolerable after awhile, and if you can swallow through the discomfort, you'll realise with time how i have made you well.

i imagine i might also be serious, and insightful, and verbose. i overexplain. not because i think you're stupid, but because sometimes a staircase of words leads to a room high in the back corner of the house that's never been opened. i want to find that room. i want to live there. then i want to fly out the octagonal window in the west wall. i want a destination, i want a map, i want to arrive, and then i want to go beyond.

i will be silent and still, aurally invisible. parts of us are always obscured despite the sketch that emerges when we use words and unlock gestures. why pretend otherwise? there will be silence and stillness between us in the years to come, which i believe is something to look forward to. why shouldn't you observe it now, on our first meeting? people are beautiful when they're still. i am no exception.

don't be fooled by a sphinx-like demeanor --- there's always a storm underneath. the clouds tumble with sadness; a broad soul is caught in a tumult of joy.

i'm accustomed to carrying and controlling conversation. i find most people don't have much practice articulating themselves. nor do they seem to be able to prompt others to think, examine, or feel. i used to think this burdensome, until i matured enough to realise i'm more comfortable focusing on someone else. in large-scale social situations, i'm usually the center of attention and an unobservant person would say i relish the spotlight. the truth is, i like to capture attention and redirect it. i'm a ringmaster and a facilitator. i don't carry the show; i disperse and distribute its energy.

i'd like to think you'll deduce these things about me, but i'd rather sell you short than be misunderstood, so here i am pre-explaining myself. i know me better than i'll ever be known by another. while i used to find this tragic (and i admit i still sort of do), i'm beginning to understand that it's one of the very best things about me.

there's so much more i could say. i hope you'll find me interesting. sometimes i want to shout, World, listen. i am complex and intriguing and incredible. i assure you i am worth knowing. god, you may even love me someday! but i hold back. firstly because it would be embarrassing if someone nearby watched that happen. but also because i can't give myself away that easily. i have to trust that one day, the world will surely see this for itself.