Nothing to Say

I don’t enjoy small talk. I know that’s kind of a mean thing to say, and now everyone’s gonna be all, “ok fine Sam, first I didn’t hug you cuz you said you didn’t like hugs, now I won’t even say hi when I see you,” but I don’t mean to be offensive when I say this. And yeah, not to participate in small talk would probably be seen as socially rude or cold; but at the end of the day, how valuable was the conversation you had with so and so about their weekend? And we all know what the weather’s like, do we really have to analyze it? But we do. So today, I stopped and thought about it a little more and realized that sometimes, I don’t even want to say anything at all.

Kate Nash has this song about a little girl named Mariella. In the song, Kate goes on to explain how Mariella took some Pritt Stick (that’s British for glue) and glued her lips together, in an effort to never have to speak. And of course, everyone thought she was crazy; but Mariella enjoyed her crossword puzzles regardless. And really, she kept herself pretty entertained without talking. Now, I’m not advocating ignoring everyone and their mother. That’s probably not healthy either. I just want to see what a day would be like if I didn’t talk when there wasn’t a need.

The sad reality is that we judge our relationships with each other based on the frequency and duration of our conversations. “Do you guys talk a lot?” If the answer is yes, then you are automatically best friends. If you and that other person don’t talk to each other, then it’s “what happened?” I don’t get it. Why is silence so bad? Why is it so daunting and uncomfortable? I think if you really enjoyed being around someone, you could just sit there and not say anything. You could just enjoy the fact that you’re with each other and you don’t have to fill the air with nonsense.

I guess it’s a little hypocritical for me to write this, with you all knowing very well that I talk quite a bit. I was the kid in class who always raised her hand to answer questions because the idea of silence unnerved me. But recently, I realized that I only want to talk when I want to talk; not because I feel like I need to talk. And if it’s about a pair of sneakers, that’s ok; as long as I’m genuinely interested in these aforementioned sneakers.

Does that make sense? I hope so. Or else I’ve just proven the exact opposite of my point.