Things I Wish I'd Said

My best friend recently did something which still leaves me in awe at her bravery. She, after being put back in touch with a high school romance, asked a question that had bothered her for a long time. She said a thing she needed to say, and while she hadn't been brooding over it for years or anything Lifetime-esque like that, she had the satisfaction of saying that thing. How brave she is!

I never do that. Put me in any situation requiring any sort of expression of emotion, and I will always put on my smoothest mask, a slightly distant smile, and retreat inward. Blame it on my Aquarian nature, blame it on growing up an only child, blame it on whatever you like, but I've never had the satisfaction of saying the things I wanted to say. Only in retrospection do the right things or the true things come to me sometimes. Other times, I know what I want to say, but my reserve keeps the words trapped inside, beating against the walls of my heart like a panicked bird longing for freedom.

This, then, is a little exercise in fantasy. What would I have said, should I have said, or did I indeed long to say in some of life's small and large moments? Some of these are big deals and some of these are trivialities. These apply to different situations which I may or may not elaborate on.

1) Goodbye. -- to A. leaving Japan since I didn't know I was never going to see her again.

2) What is it, exactly, that you want from me and that you see in me? Why am I not enough for you, but you always seem to wind up on my doorstep when it all falls down? Was there ever anything at all? -- to the one I spent most of my undergrad confused over.

3) Go straight to hell. Don't think you didn't hurt me, but don't think for a minute that I won't rise from these ashes and be stronger for it. You won't win. -- to T. after Indiana.

4) Is there any more room on that trip? I'm changing my flight date by a couple of days, and I'd like to see that World Heritage Site. -- to D. and crew as they headed to Cambodia

5) Tell me more about our family. -- to my Nana before she was gone.

6) God, you're adorable. -- to I. in Ireland.

7) If you can't be a positive, hands-on part of the solution, then please shut up and get out. -- too many times and places to specify.

8) How am I today? Well, actually, I hurt like the hounds of hell are clawing their way out slowly while little men with sledgehammers are smashing my skull into fragments from the inside. I want to curl into the fetal position in a dark, cool, quiet place and whimper, gibber, or scream until merciful Death takes me. That's how I am. How about you? -- again, too many times and places to specify.

9) You know what? I will put in my application for that job. -- to M. in Korea.

10) Yes, yes...you're frightfully clever. Good for you. Yes, I AM from the South. Aren't you a clever linguist to have figured that out and to have "tricked" me into having run through that sentence so I'd pronounce all my diphthong vowels for you. Yankee Schmuck. -- to unknown linguist in Japan.

11) Sure, I'll dance with you. And give me a pina colada, too. -- to G. in Costa Rica.

I think eleven is a good stopping place. There are some trends that are beginning to emerge, I think. Interesting. Well, that's one thing a blog is for, after all, personal reflection.