Jack Stevens
Careless Whisper keeps dancing through my head as I think, carrying my thoughts elsewhere, guilty feet have got no rhythm. What if I don’t say it? Check my tongue, exercise caution, take a step instead of a leap, and address this feeling another day? But I promised myself honesty, and presence, and in this moment I want to tell you the truth, expose the depth of my love. My love. The critical part, that I am a partner in a dance, currently easy and natural, but also easily upended. And what if you do not reciprocate, your feelings different from mine? My gentle hand tries to become a firm lead, you resist, and what am I to do but watch you drift away, till I am clinging haphazardly to the tips of your fingers, till you slip away?
The thought occurs to me; Careless Whisper is about something already happened, the pain of memory, of what could have been, but is not. And I still need to respond; my future is entirely up in the air. I shake my head, disrupt the irrational thought pattern, until everything is distorted and I can reconstruct my ideal future. So I clear my head, and focus on the positive. The wonderful feelings I’ve been feeling, the connection even in isolation, the triumph of desire over distance, of sending myself, and receiving you in return. So much positive, to dwell on the negative is to give it life, to think it into existence. A loop, ever present, that only expands and consumes if you feed it, focus on it. I’ve been caught in it before. I’m ever on the verge of being caught in it again.
I decide. I want to take that next step, leap of faith, probably not as dangerous as I think. And the message is waiting there, expectant, already typed out. I press send, and await the ...