Things I'll Never Say ... But Wish I Could

Inevitably I spend a lot of time thinking. It's a curse, I swear! And I've been thinking a lot about what I say, or more accurately, what I don't say.

I'd have to say that the thing that annoys me most about myself, above all the tens of thousands of things to choose from, is how little I actually share. I mean, there is so much about me and so many things that run through my head that I could talk for days on end.

But I don't. And I don't even really know why. Okay maybe I do. I have this barrier or filter that goes up every time I have the opportunity to talk about something remotely important. I can carry a perfectly good conversation about pop culture or things that don't really matter. But the personal, important stuff gets trapped in my head.

Granted sometimes it's automatic. I'm not the kind of person that just throws around facts about myself into everyday conversation. I won't talk about the weather and then mention something my brother said. But more than that, I will actively hold things back, even when I don't have to, or even when offered the opportunity to open up.

Take this week as an example. It was a rough week. I even got caught sitting in a cubicle crying. It's not that I don't cry - I'm a rather prolific crier at times really. It's just that I don't like to let other people see me cry. It's personal. And worse, people always want to know what's wrong! And I wanted to just let the words pour out. They pounded in my head, perched on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to say a thousand things, some totally inappropriate, and things that could have just ruined everything, but just ache going on said.

But I punted. I said only the most obvious, most vague, and least important things. And then comes evasion and misdirection. I'm very good at changing the subject or injecting humor into a situation if it means I can avoid opening up. And I do it so often it's almost effortless.

I almost wish people would just force me to open up. I say almost because that comfortable part of me wants to keep coasting, keeping things inside. But it's not like it would be that hard. I'm not an open book, but I'm not a crazy password protected,  encrypted whatever either. I'm more of an intimidating, heavy closed book that's actually got a lot of great content once someone puts in the effort to open me. (I'm not sure if that's really profound or starting to sound dirty.)

Of course I can write these things down. Writing it helps because I can pretend  no one would read this anyway. Or maybe I don't even need to pretend!  And the reader can pretend because I won't ask. See the pattern.

I don't really know what to do at this point. It's always the hardest when there's so much building under the surface. Maybe this will be the time when I just lay all the cards on the table and gamble big that the one I spill to will actually care and listen. Or maybe time will pass and the urge to talk will quiet itself again. My money's on time.