You were clearly gearing up to ask a question. The words were actually seconds away from spilling out of your mouth and I freaked out.
I had no control over what you would say.
Before I could even stop myself, I hurled a question at you before you could get yours out. It’s not that it was an invalid question. I really was wondering. I always wonder a million things and, if we had time, I would pick your brain on so many different subjects. But we don’t have time for that and we both know it.
But I couldn’t help it. I blurted the question quickly and you went with it. Effortless. Sometimes it’s effortless for me to take the conversation and go wherever I want to with it. And I know that sometimes you realize what I’m doing and you let me do it anyway. Actually I think that’s how it is a lot of the time now.
But I hate that it’s so effortless that even I can’t control it. It’s second nature. When did I learn to do that? I don’t know. Why did I learn to do that? Not sure, but I have a pretty good guess.
And why do I feel the need to have control over the conversation? Why am I happy to have that control? I don’t know if happy is the right word… But why do I feel safe when I’m in control if the conversation topic?
Is that why people seek control? For safety? To feel secure, like nothing can touch them? Because I think that’s why I want it sometimes.
I let you take back some control when I had stopped you from asking your question because I felt safe now. Because I had manipulated the conversation to stay away from the unknowns that your question could so easily lead it to.
It really shouldn’t be this effortless.