Thoughts You Will Never Read

The Little Things

Dear You,

The urge to keep things for myself or for special things can lead to a foggy mind. Torn between what I've already said and what I haven't. Knowing they don't cancel each other out, but that words leave me so vulnerable. Am I really ready to peel back my skin and showcase my heart? My nerves make my skin feel tighter as I ponder how strong the fragile glass case surrounding such an important part of me is. My skin proclaiming "this is me", while my heart softly whispers, "well, actually...". 

The unsteady feeling of not knowing if someone will understand the importance of being revealed the small things. The small things that explain the big, the small things that make up who I am, and the small things that are so precious, you become obsessed with protecting them through locking them up.

Will my words be overlooked, seen as another sentence that was listened to and then forgotten? Or will they be remembered, received with a loving and knowing smile, and continue on in the back of someone's mind until it comes forth as an explanation for things we can't quite admit.

When I explain that I was never given a choice growing up, will you understand my indecisiveness? My urge to cry when I ask for something - if I am even able to ask? Why I am so comfortable making other people comfortable even if I'm not? Or will you have a short reply and move onto other thoughts and stories, and never quite understand what I was trying to say?

I was recently informed it's because I have too many metamessages*. Although, I'm not sure if that was a critique telling me I need to be more straightforward or simply an observation. I justify it, saying I explain what I am saying if people don't understand. I don't mind being straightforward when it comes to a place I feel safe in, but I usually hide in my comfortable shell and play the game of 'what if'. 

I make absolutely no sense; at least, this is what I tell myself. Who cares so much about people knowing such small, unimportant details. Me. That's who. Because I always want to know other people's small details. I want to be able to pass on something and know someone else's opinion about it, not because they told me, but because I know them. Because I don't see knowing someone as knowing the big things. Then again, knowing someone's favorite color can only take you so far.

On the other hand, I often feel hypocritical. I don't always notice the small things. Sometimes I notice something, but when I try to recall a little thing about someone, my mind goes black. It drives me a little bit more insane each time. A little chant in my mind saying, "you don't actually know this person". Which only adds to the frustration. How dare I claim years of friendship invalid over such small things? But how dare I claim to love and know someone when I don't know the little things?

I am stuck in my own paradox over the little things.

*metamessages (n.): n underlying meaning or implicit message