Note to world #8883

I have a communication problem : I often say exactly what I mean. 

Turns out that people don’t really like that. So it’s a problem. My problem. And it’s become quite a limiting factor lately.  

So I try to sit around and say nothing at all, afraid to say any small thing for fear of what rip it might cause in my guts, for fear of what else might spill out from my heart.  I try to understand what people want from me without using words. 

I practice faking a constant half smile until I can feel it burned into my cheekbones.  I decide that pretending to take notes – even doodling – is more acceptable than fidgety hands and I buy a nice notebook to hide my thoughts and my anxiety.  I cry about songs on the radio and stories I read in the paper instead of about any real pain I may feel every day. I try to breathe deeply and I try to float. 

Because I have a communication problem : people want me to say less about what I really mean. 

And I want to please them. 

Even when it feels like I am carving out my soul sometimes. 


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