The Future is Guaranteed

photo by girlinthecafe

This is a guest post by writer Matthew Dryden.

“That’s what I’m talking about! See? See? You keep it real, you
write like every bone in your body is scratching the page. You’re an
addiction.”

I laughed. “Addiction?”

I am sitting in my cafe, wondering how this…girl…across the table
can give me advice on how to be myself. Honestly, I don’t even remember
how she managed to make it to my table to sit down and start discussing
her thoughts and feelings about my writing. She has been watching
over my shoulder for weeks now.

“Yeah, an addiction. You seem to write without inhibition, you write
for yourself. You don’t seem to give a flying-fuck what other people
think about you.”

I lean forward in my seat. “I read somewhere that it’s good to to pay
attention to how others are perceiving me. But it just doesn’t make
sense. What am I supposed to do? Take an eyeball out and turn it around?
The only feedback I get is that I’m honest and raw — how I have the guts
to write what others can’t, won’t, or just simply don’t.”

“You know how some bloggers are — they don’t want to offend others. You
have to realize that you are good —”

“I know that I’m good at what I do. It’s not a writing issue I’m
having — what I want to know is this: If my words are so strong, why
can’t I speak like I write? Why am I still the quiet guy at a table full
of people.”

She tried to open her mouth, but I interrupted her again.

“Truth be told, I envy them. Instead of trying to figure out how to
accurately record their lives, they’re living it. When they hide behind
their masks, it’s only in self-defense. They don’t need time to reflect
on how their words might affect others. They just intuitively know — or
they don’t care at all.”

“Dude, who said you can’t talk like you write?”

“It’s easy now — you’re just one person. But when I’m in a group of
people — I feel overpowered. I feel like I cannot lead a conversation,
only follow it.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“I want to be top dog, I want to be the one in control, I want to
have a group of people hanging onto every word.”

She just kind of stared at me. The server came by with our drinks, we
mumbled our thanks and sat in silence.

“Do you want friends or do you want an audience?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, palm outwards, to
silence me.

“What I mean to say is that you seem to want admirers, and not friends.
You can’t help if you’re always quiet — but you have to understand that
you can’t and won’t always be in control of a situation. You have to
relinquish control, you have relax. They make it appear effortless
because they’ve been friends for so long.”

“I always feel like I’m trying too hard, and I think it shows. Maybe I’m
not trying hard enough to make it appear effortless. Maybe the choices
I’m making aren’t helping making me create the perception I want —”

“Relax.”

I reflected on the last few moments and realized that I had started
speaking an octave higher and I was sitting up straight and gesturing
wildly. This is when I realized that the four people I was referring to
were standing in the doorway — staring directly at me. The girl peered
over her should and back at my horror-stricken face.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled, choking back a laugh.

Blue-eyes, the girl standing at the front of the group, was the
first to snap out of it. She waved and walked over to the table. “So
what was that? Your next great blog?”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, I think so.”

“It sounds good. Ever think of performing it?”

“Haha! I can barely keep up a conversation — let alone get on stage.”

“Ah, don’t worry. You do just fine. Anyways, it’s good to see you — we
have to get together sometime.”

And then she was gone.

“Good cover,” said the girl.

“Oh bite me.”

“See, all you need to do is relax, and I think you’ll be just
fine. Remember, this isn’t supposed to be easy. It will take some time.
Don’t dump it because it challenges you. Just remember that everything
is going according to plan.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“It does. Trust me. Hey, listen, I got to be going too. I mean, I can’t
be sitting with random strangers all day. Perhaps we’ll do this again?”

“Maybe. Hey, listen, what’s your name again?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you might put me in your journal,” she giggled. She turned
and walked towards the door.

“I’m going to anyways,” I called after her.

She turned back to me and nodded, smiling secretively. She mouthed the
words, “As you wish.”

And then she was gone. Blue-eyes waved me over, and I didn’t think twice. I went over to their table, sat down, and enjoyed the delicious discussion, reveling in the comfortable company of soon-to-be friends.

Matthew Dryden is the kind of man that you usually hear referred to as “a quiet guy” by neighbors being interviewed in front of a yellow police tape festooned house, buzzing with police, and several authorities removing numerous large, bulky bags while a backhoe operator jumps from his vehicle yelling, “I think we found even MORE in the back yard!” Actually, Matthew is an up and coming writer, who loves to violate the dictionary in many different ways.

Tagged as: guest post