It Was So Real

"I love you

But I'm afraid to love you.

It's quiet.

So quiet it's loud.

So loud I can't escape."

This was the text on the first crumpled piece of paper I drew.

I wrote this note back in October 2021, about one year after officially ending my relationship with my Berlin ex. 

I'm Afraid to Love You, Graphite on Paper, 2021

The text was inspired by Jeff Buckley's song "So Real," with an addition of content from conversations my ex and I had on the verge of breaking up.

There was something about the silent moments we shared that was a lot for him, and he mentioned it more than once. 

My apartment can get really quiet, and when someone else is there, I tend to keep it music-free (so I noticed). I never opposed music, nor was that the main issue. I think it was too quiet in the sense that there was nowhere to escape to. As if the voices of pain, doubt, sadness, and fear became too loud when faced with such silence.

Silence can lead to great intimacy, and he and I had many moments when we melted into each other's existence. But that can be a lot, especially for the one who sees the end of it all at the moment things get too close, which apparently happened often. 

That kind of pessimism makes sense since we wanted a different type of relationship and had very different lifestyles in mind. It was always hanging like a dark cloud above our heads, the dark cloud of incompatibility.

When I wrote that note, I thought of what he would have liked to tell me all those times he felt the end of us was inevitable. When he felt choked by the fear of commitment to something he couldn't commit to or the fear of intense intimacy. 

To see, be seen, to stay. 

Can we do it?

---

This note opened a slow drawing flow of more crumpled notes representing "things we don't say." The third note I drew was one a friend wrote. I asked her to write down the things she feels/thinks but is embarrassed to say to my face.

I did not expect her to tell me what was written there, but she did. I was amazed by her honesty and courage, which also confronted me with a lot within myself. I knew I wanted to do it again - give others the stage to release what comes up and stays locked inside.

They don't have to tell me what they wrote; just write it and crumple it, and we can let the future decide what will happen next. 

I recently got back to creating more notes with friends and myself. 

I noticed the men I offered it to were not into it so far, but maybe that will change :)

So this is an open call for my people in Berlin - even if we never met, I invite you to share this experience with me. 

We sit together, see what comes up emotionally, write it down, squash it, and proceed from there. 

I draw the crumpled notes, but what's inside can stay secret. 

This might be open for people outside of Berlin in the future, but now I keep it geographically close. 

With love,

Shiran