I hate cliches. I especially hate them when I’m trying to communicate how I feel about a crappy situation. If someone says or does something unkind to me, I want you, my friend and confidante, to do what friends do–I want you to say you’ll beat the living daylights out of that offensive individual. I want you to be on my side, even if I’m wrong. I’ll come around and realize the folly in my logic (or lack thereof).
When I come to you, I want you to hear my heart.
I want you to notice the slight tremble in my voice, the fast pace with which I speak, and the sparkle of tears on my eyelids. I don’t want to hear what I should do or how what happened does not matter because in this moment it matters a lot. I’m not looking for advice; I’m looking for an ally. You and me against this nasty world, right?
Sure, in the scheme of things this doesn’t really matter and it will pass. Right now, it is consuming me; it is hurting me; it is draining me. Part of letting it go is processing the pain with you; I want you to acknowledge my hurt, to identify with it, and to hear it as I speak. Don’t dismiss it; don’t tell me that others feel that way; don’t tell me to think about something else. If I could dismiss it, if I cared how others felt, if I could think about something else, don’t you think that I would?
I just want you to be sorry that I hurt and I want you to avenge my honor, even if it’s only in words. Most of all, I want you to hear my heart, even if my words are folly.