I have had writers block all summer and it fucking sucks. Writers block sounds like I’m in a NYC loft apartment smearing my avocado toast into my Mac keyboard and yeeting it out the window. Nobody cares, I know. It’s not an actual thing.
MY EARRING IS IN THE OCEAN. Kim, there are people that are dying.
But – and here’s the catch – when you put all your self worth into the fact that you are supposed to now be a playwright failed actor then this poses a problem because? Any guesses? You feel like shit. But something has happened to me LITERALLY just now that has absolutely floored me. So much so that I immediately started the blog I have been meaning to start for 4 years.
It’s nearly midnight and I’m in Guildford having seen my cousin in her third year show (well done Kira) and I’m not going to lie – I’ve been up since 5.30, the only food I’ve really had is a ready made pasta underneath a railway bridge and my left arm has gone numb. So when my blissfully empty train carriage is disturbed by 4 guys bustling on board, my back is immediately up. Because I need solace apparently. Even if I am planning to put my headphones on immediately.
I do the quick glance over that looks like a neck stretch (?) just to check if they are a possible keys-in-between-the-fingers-job (women know) and they aren’t. Ones got a nice beard, one has a nice coat on. They cool, they cool. Carry on chaps, I might catch a Real Housewives episode.
My arm is still numb, am I having a stroke? I fainted on the tube a few days ago, is this my final reckoning?
But then their conversation starts to form into actual words and I start listening. One of them is telling the others something.
‘So yeah, I just thought you should know.’
There is a deathly silence. I am the only one other than them on the carriage. I listen intently, the Housewives still loading, then it becomes more clear.
‘The thing about a phantom pregnancy is your body still thinks you are carrying a baby, even when you are not. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.’
Jesus fucking Christ my whole body tenses. I don’t move.
‘I just keep thinking of Sophie, you know, her face. It’s brutal, the whole process is fucking brutal. When you go to the hospital thinking there’s a healthy baby and there’s…. nothing there.’
Then he lets go. He heaves into his hands with a sob I have never heard more guttural, more filled with complete despair. At the unfairness of it all. He cries for what seems like 10 minutes and his friends say nothing. I don’t move. Until I give another glimpse over and they are just quietly holding him. Not one word. Only them. Well, and me. Just letting him cry. Because what else is there to do?
‘Sorry.’
Then a flurry of words.
‘Don’t be sorry mate’ ‘I can’t even imagine what you are going through’ ‘Whatever you decide about tomorrow… me and Lauren will totally understand’
Now at this point I am PLASTERED to my seat in utter heartbreak. The ticket officer walks through the carriage and I am about to go full Charlotte from Sex and the City on him.
‘DON’T. DONT.’
They make small talk about work, family, other girlfriends and get off at the next station. I watch them leave and nearly stand up.
I just wanted to say… you are so brave. And sorry I was here. I’m sorry. You seem like a really nice man. I’m so sorry.
I don’t say anything (thank god) and they leave. Into the night like they were never there, like nothing happened.
I keep thinking about Sophie.
Now, I’m not saying the point of this is that this man’s moment of pure vulnerability has suddenly INSPIRED me back into wanting to write again. That would be incredibly self indulgent. But what it did make me realise is how beautiful that silence was. That dialogue between characters, people, you can’t get any more real. There were a thousand words buried inside that 90 second silence. Not often do you see a group of people, especially men, just let emotion sit there for however long. No joke about being a pretty crier, no self deprecating remark to distract anyone, just silence.
Because this man feels like he has lost everything and there is literally nothing anybody could say. I realise I will be truly honoured to be able to one day write dialogue as beautiful as that.
Humans are amazing. Life is heartbreakingly unfair sometimes. My arm is still numb.
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