You say to me that my emotions are stale and distant, and I reply
“is that so awful?”
So, you offer up a sweet and gentle litany, praising the value of compassion and honest emotion, while inside of me, your words hit like a wrecking ball, savagely destroying my carefully constructed walls.
There is a small and petty part of me that wants to prove you’re wrong and let loose the inner dams of self-preservation, just to show you the true force of my unbridled passion, but I fear being overwhelmed by the turmoil of
raw emotion that lay just beneath my surface…
And there is another, nobler part that wants to show you the depths of my feelings, not for any lesser reason than because it is my nature to be honest and open with others, so we might both enjoy a closer connection.
But there is a certain vulnerability of self that comes from such openness. One that I could not endure at this moment…
And what good would such an exchange accomplish?
It would only serve to weaken my resolve the next time I feel the need to cover my feelings.
So I desperately put on my best poker-face, and try hard not to flinch, as your caring words fly into me like darts…
Thank you my friend, for caring so true.
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