The tragedy … I don’t understand. All around us. Heartbreak. Everyday.
The moment when you realize a relationship is not going to be forever, it manifests in different ways:
Joe looked at her, and though he couldn’t quite make out the details in the distance, he saw the end. He felt the heavy sadness return, as it always does.
He smiled. Sometimes a smile is one of the most challenging things you’ll do. We communicate so much without talking. A smile can constitute work. A smile can be a chore. Work is not a 9-5, 10-6, 12-8 thing. It’s 24-hours. It’s not measured by time. It’s a constant opportunity. Work is a transaction. It is a sacrifice of oneself. A crucifixion? ... maybe? ... sometimes?
Smiling for her, at this moment, felt like a crucifixion. He would now ask her if she’s ever seen “The Passion.” She would be none the wiser, even if she saw the film.
"Have you seen The Passion?"
"Yeah, I'm not into violence, but I really liked that movie. It was powerful."
He smiled again and looked in her eyes for any unconscious/subconscious acknowledgment of their tragic dilemma. There was an awkward pause...
[Aside: Instead of déjà vu, the “glitch in the Matrix” could have been awkward pauses. I think in my Matrix, people are like circuits. So instead of being pieces of code, we all make up the circuitry of SUPER DEVICE LIFE. And when we interact with emotion or passion, it creates a charge. That electricity, whether positive or negative, supplies the power to SUPER DEVICE LIFE. One could say "don't live life like an apathetic impassive dead battery," but sometimes it's totally appropriate to preserve your charge. We are, after all, finite resources. So awkward pauses would be the glitches in the SUPER DEVICE where two circuits are both evaluating their level of juice. Recalibrating their emotional investment. On or off. I suspect if we transcribed the silence found in awkward pauses, we could fill volumes.]
"Yeah, me too."
Joe thought about the prospect of not seeing her again, and it made him feel sad and alive.