Why have a conversation with them in my head when I can have them in real life? Maybe I didn't want to interrupt them (something I was accused of, and possibly really did back then), maybe I didn't want to impose on their thoughts with my opinions, maybe I didn't want to seem too involved, too concerned, too interested (at times where I really wasn't).
I have these strange ideas now in my mind. Am I being too nice, or am I feigning interest by listening? I know what it feels like to not be heard, to not have someone to talk to, which is why I listen, I try to listen to the things people say, to catch parts of their hearts, to at least, just listen. After all, I noticed, that's really what most people need. This is sincere and genuine.
And then. The debate ensues. Am I just trying to be sincerely nice and be a listener, or am I being fake?
There are times, I've counted a few by now, in this season of my life, that people say these words to me, so nonchalantly, like as if I don't have any feelings of my own. Like, they're just saying it because they meant it, but in the moment, they failed to realize that maybe those words could possibly, potentially, hurt my feelings. Like I shouldn't have any form of emotional opinion to that matter. Like I should just be okay with everything that they're saying, because after all, I'm only listening. I think I've had my feelings hurt so many times now, but I don't remember the last time I said anything about it. It just became unnecessary, to mention something so small and so irrelevant and so temporary.
I believe I do this too. Accidentally say something completely disregarding the other person's feelings, only to get mine across. It's so hard to be pleasing everyone all the time. And some days I'd feel like 'screw this, I can't be living my life to make everyone happy' and then some days I'll feel like 'what's wrong with putting in the little effort to try not harm anyone'. Still trying to find that in-between.
I wish I could be more certain about what I feel. Something's keeping me up at night, I need to figure out what it is. These weird, small anxiety attacks are returning. I need to sleep at more normal hours.
“I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve.” ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
No comments:
Post a Comment