Halfsie-time

in between time

intween

halfway halftime

transition time

not real time

confidence blurting

genomgångstid

mellangångstid

I’m trying to find a word for what I have encountered most the last few days. Halfsie-time. I know it’s not a word, but in my mind it is something. The time in between things and the leaving of the other person. The time when you leave an apartment to walk to the bus stop. The time when you wait for the train to leave. The ten minutes before needing to put on the outer clothes to go outside to that appointment.

The time that you don’t decide since you are not in a car, you have to adapt to the train/bus/appointment and therefore the time is limited.

And during this time, the doors to the private time seem to open fast and the guard is down. It’s a window into the most private thoughts and fears.

“I don’t think you know but just before Christmas something bad happened. My brother died.”

“We are trying for the second child. I thought we had one, but I lost the one I had a month ago. It is hard.”

“I think he is cheating on me. It’s been a bit rough all through fall time and now he is online a lot and closes the computer when I get in the room.”

“I’m getting married this summer and then we will start trying to have a baby. I’m getting old so we need to hurry.”

“I’m getting readmitted to the psych care, on a out patient basis. It’s been a rocky winter.”

"I don't know what to do, I am getting laid off before summer. And I haven't told anyone yet. I can't be a failure like that"

And so on.... it leaves a fascination, a strangeness, in me. It seems to be more like this now when I do not live here anymore. It’s like the time at the airport, before you leave for a long time and you don’t know when you will see eachother again. All of a sudden you can talk about those hopes and dreams since it’s almost like ‘it’s another life’ or ‘it’s not really real’ and who knows what we will see each other again?

It’s all said and done in the inbetween times. Half of them blurted out when the train is visible in the distance, and the words are out and then the train pulls in and you step on there and then it¨s “bye, take care”.

It’s almost like it doesn’t count so therefore you can say whatever you want.

No fears for the consequences.

Just blurting out things to ease the heart.

It’s a fairly quick way and a good tell to see if people have their game faces on or if you can read in the faces what they think when the subject is blurted out. Of course, these times it seems like I have been the one wih the game face. The silent mask or interest. The look of interest but no shock, no predjudice, no “wtf are you talking about, you moron” (to some of these statements, that has been in my head, and the need to stay another bus since what is time really? When a friend is hurting?).

I’ve crammed all my red wine nightly conversations into two weeks. It’s interesting. And terrifying.

I am the only one keeping my quiet. Not sharing my dreams and hopes. Not blurting out my fears as much. Maybe because for the first time in a long while, I am not sure of my dreams, nor what the future holds. It’s just today. Tonight. Tomorrow is a new day. New confidences. New knowledge. And hopes that the flight will be able to leave on time for me to leave this inbetweenplace and sleep in my own bed.