Unsent Messages.
There are times where, I admit, I was getting out of hand.
I’ve noticed I don’t often filter my words or intentions. They spill out, and in that unguarded moment, they can cut deep. Real life doesn’t offer a rewind for unsent messages; we’re left with the aftermath of hurting each other. Acknowledging that I might be the one causing pain, perhaps even the perceived enemy, is a bitter pill. Yet, in the intimate space of our chat, if we could retract every word, what would be the essence of our shared language?
There’s a bunch of words I never shared with you. They’re like secret notes tucked away, revealing feelings I kept to myself. Without hitting that send button, our talks become a mix of incomplete sentences, showing the real emotions that never made it to your screen. It’s a dance of untold stories, a collection of things I wished I could say but never did. The weight of what’s left unsent sits there, making our connection a mix of words said and words unsaid. But, well.
My mind’s often a swirl of “Should I say this? Should I say that?” Communication’s crucial, sure, but I wonder if some secrets are better left untouched. There’s this fear that airing everything out might make things worse, like dropping a truth bomb in the wrong moment and place. It’s a constant tug-of-war between sharing and safeguarding, questioning the delicate balance of when to spill and when to keep it all in.
I’m straightforward, saying things as they are, yet the fear of causing pain lingers. While I believe others’ feelings aren’t my responsibility, the thought that our talks might leave lasting wounds is daunting. Even when faced with hurtful comments, I may brush it off initially, but deep down, it stirs unwelcome memories and shapes a less favorable view of myself. It’s this delicate dance between candor and the weight of unintended consequences.
There’s a drawer in my mind filled with unsent letters. Each one holds words I never put on paper, emotions I never let escape the confines of my thoughts. It’s a collection of unspoken truths, a gallery of sentiments trapped in the inkwell of my hesitations. The weight of these unsent letters, like a secret garden of unshared feelings, is both a comfort and a burden. They represent the unsaid chapters of my story, the echoes of what I kept to myself in the quiet moments between pen and paper.
1) The hastily written angry text in the heat of an argument.
2) The overly emotional message that reveals vulnerability I wasn’t ready to share.
3) The impulsive confession that could complicate a friendship.
4) The critical comment about someone’s choices.
5) The sarcastic remark that might be misunderstood and cause harm.
6) The unsolicited advice that wasn’t requested and may come off as judgmental.
7) The overly personal detail shared in a moment of oversharing.
8) The message expressing frustration without considering the other person’s perspective.
9) The passive-aggressive note that adds tension without constructive communication.
10) The message revealing a secret that wasn’t mine to disclose.
Yes, it all derives from horrible thoughts.
Writing becomes a refuge, a sanctuary where urgent thoughts find a pause, allowing me to navigate my own emotions and thoughts. It’s a calming process, a lens through which I understand myself. Yet, in the midst of it, I question if I’m inherently secretive or just overly cautious about causing hurt. There’s a persistent longing to unsay some words, to rewind and retract, a testament to the complexity of expressing oneself without unintended consequences.
So, well, I’ve been reflecting a lot, and I want to share something intimate. I want to be brave — for myself. I’m tired of letting fear dictate my actions. It’s time to stand up for myself, to face the challenges with courage.
It’s not about pretending fear doesn’t exist; it’s about embracing it and moving forward anyway. I’m ready to rewrite the narrative that’s held me back. This journey towards bravery is for no one else but the person looking back at me in the mirror.
I’m really sorry if I’ve ever hurt anyone.
