AJ Johnson

Just an ordinary girl in an extraordinary world. Who just happens to have... a slight obsession with art supplies. Poetry. Pencils. I love mechanical pencils. One day I will buy myself a bouquet of pencils.

[Short Piece from my Novella... Just to play with your head...]
Therapist: "Words do have a sense of power. You know this, don't you?"
Me: "Well, sure. I mean, we say things that hurt and help all the time. I believe words are very powerful but why is it so hard to say them? I DON'T GET IT!"
Therapist: "Well. First off. You believe words have power, we have established this, but does silence have just as much power as words do?"
Me: "...good question."
Therapist: "Uh huh... and do you have a good answer for me?"
Me: "If good answer means the right answer according to your standards and it's obvious you want me to say yes, then, yes. Silence does have just as much... or maybe even... MORE power than speech and words, etc." I wave my hands in front of my face.
Therapist: "Hmm... Alright, I'll pretend that you really meant that and..."
Me: "I did mean that." I stare at him.
Therapist: "Alrighty then. So, if silence has more power than speech and words why don't you just listen to the silence of his actions and looks and see what he thinks."
Me: "Because then I'll know the answer to my question."
Therapist: "What's the question?"
Me: "Does he love me..."
Therapist: "Does he?" He sits patiently across from me, his hands in his lap.
Me: "I think he might care for..."
Therapist: "Does he love you?"
I think for a while. I remember the smile on his face. I remember spoken words and unspoken words. I remember glances that were never meant for me. I remember touches and hugs and... dreams.
I stare up at the ceiling and blink. He looks at me and smiles that sad sort of smile that is supposed to comfort human kind but I know he doesn't mean it like my mom would or a best friend. He smiles like that because he knows the answer.
Therapist: "Does it hurt?"
Me: "Does what hurt?"
Therapist: "The silence."
Me: "...leave me alone." I turn on my side and put my face up against the cold brown leather. "You tell me..."
Therapist: "It's not for me to decide... You know, William Shakespeare once said, 'O, learn to read what silent love hath writ; To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.' Does that mean anything to you?"
Me: "...leave me alone." I lay there. The timer beeps. I get up and walk out of my mind for a moment to forget the truth. The truth I know because with love's eyes I have heard it in the silence. He... he...
-Mind exits stage left-