I told my brother that…

It sucks when you finally work up the courage to reveal your weakness to someone you would like to think should actually care, and who might be able and willing to at least comfort you in your rarely confessed time of need… and then they treat you like an angsty teen, and minimize your problems, and act like you’re just being a wuss or a crybaby, or like you expect everyone to feel sorry for you, because you’re “hurting so much,” when really, the only reason you’ve even revealed anything at all, is because the struggles have finally overwhelmed you, and you just can’t take it anymore, like you usually do, without ever letting anyone know how much it hurts.

I can honestly say that i’ve probably deleted about as much, or maybe even more words, than i’ve actually sent, to those i hoped would listen and understand. But of those i did send, some didn’t want to listen, and others didn’t want to understand. Some don’t know how to listen. Some lack the necessary prerequisites to be able to understand. Some just choose not to, and go about their lives, justifying such dismissal in their own minds, without ever even considering that they’ve done anything wrong.

And that’s why when i delete words prior to sending them, i don’t consider it a mistake. I consider it a choice that i’ve made to simply refrain from attempting to communicate something that i can only reasonably predict will not be well-received, or might even result in causing more problems for me.

But there have been a few times i’ve wished i had sent something instead of deleting it. But micromanaging all those potentially regrettable things just becomes too much. This is also part of why i try so hard to know, and then say, exactly what i mean.

It’s depressing to notice that most people don’t do that. Most just seem to say whatever falls out, and hear whatever they feel like believing.