If conversations could kill its death would be a slow one. Each word would successively feel its way deeper into the victim’s soul, touching a place in their heart that will never, ever, forget and worse, will crave for in its absence.
As the conversation strings them along this ambiguous sensation we call a “connection”, be wary when it triggers a light headed sense of delusion. Because when that happens they’re left with a fate far worse than death — a limbo of wishful thinking.
You see, conversations are like hallucinogens. Conversations have the power to fabricate a world out of words, where nouns link common interests and adjectives exaggerate feelings. How do you draw the line between what’s real and misleading?
I think back and remember. I’ve been both the victim and the victimizer. What they both have in common, I recently realized, is a need to have something in common. No one intentionally plays either role, but when the conversation thins out and there’s nothing left to say, or worse to feel, it unconsciously becomes obvious who was who. But you have to take yourself out of the moment to see that.
I’ve been both the victim and the victimizer, but never at the same time. If conversations could kill, isn’t there anyone to die with me?