I almost sent it.

An email to a friend. Until I realized that, though it's awfully sweet and thoughtful, it's probably not the type of thing she really appreciates. Now, I could be wrong about that given the nature of sensitive things and how people usually hide them from the world, but I usually end up feeling like I...


Hmm... I had an epiphany mid-sentence. I was going to say that I end up giving love away too freely sometimes and feel like it was never really wanted by that person in the first place. Maybe you don't get much of a reaction from them. Maybe they don't [or can't] articulate very well what it meant to them. Maybe it didn't mean anything to them and you get silence. I mean, c'mon! What's more unnerving than spending an hour or two trying to craft a hug via words on a screen through intense scouring of the internet for all of the right things they might be needing to hear or see... and getting a heaping helping of silence?


It's a catch-22. They don't know that you were devoting hours to writing one email, but you can't mention that because then you're placing some kind of price tag on their reaction.


"You need to cry and tell me this is just what you were missing today because I said that I spent two hours on one email." Say that and you'll end up sounding needy and desperate. And really, I just want to do what I can from the outside to help.


-----


But isn't that what love is? Isn't that what love does? It gives itself on the presupposition that it isn't expecting or wanting anything in return. Isn't it love that says, "Yes, there's a large chance that what I'm trying to do for someone else will be ignored or unnoticed or thrown to the wayside, but instead, I'm going to hang onto the possibility that it's arriving at just the right time for them"? And let me tell you, that's the reason I started the email. I wasn't purposefully thinking about her this morning. I simply came across a picture on tumblr that reminded me she's working through heavy personal stuff and that she's struggling to be happy; then I wanted to write her up and remind her I was thinking about her and that she's missed. Who knows, it might be possible that our hearts function on some psychic wavelength, unique to everything else in the universe; and that it's possible for you to just know, in some quiet unexplainable way, when someone else isn't doing so well.


But basically, I went from feeling confident warm fuzzies... to "maybe this is too much..." to "nevermind, this is stupid. girls don't actually like sensitive caring guys because that's the world's biggest fucking hoax. delete it."


They weren't lying when they said that loving is risky. And I'm not even talking about the I'm-in-love-with-you love, but even just the I-care-about-this-person's-well-being-and-want-to-help-make-them-happy love; platonic love. You insist to yourself that it's being given out purely as a freebie, but then end up balking right before you click send. Sounds to me like there's an unspoken risk hiding in there somewhere...


You then find yourself here in your journal trying to figure out if you were being brave for starting or smart for quitting. But who's more important? Me or her? Because if she is, I'd run the risk to my own ego that I'll sound like a cliche-ridden-dorkus-face if it means that I might hit the X on the spot.


*sigh*


Time to go sound like a moron...