Words

She felt like a piece of trash. When a friend needed her after a break-up. And she actually was reaching out for connection, she did not know the blasted words to say (beyond the basic "I am here for you. That is not true").

I just asked her questions, like I was an interrogator. Why don't I have the words? Why can't I be more encouraging?

Maybe it is because she didn't believe in saying pretty little nothings she didn't really mean (most of the time, anyway; and not because she was harsh, unkind, or abrupt. Just as a matter of honesty and loving others as herself). Or because she just did not think it was the right thing to say. Yet, it was kind of strange. She felt like she always had her own personal time, alone time. Where she could not help but automatically begin to generate some sort of inspirational material: perhaps translating her thoughts into an encouragement or poem that part of her (not the other part that felt like that was being fake and a show, and tried to keep herself in check) to possibly share on the internet. On a blog no-one even read, yet.

Maybe it is true. That all too often, we show our good side to the world. And when deep comes down to deep, she does not feel like an empathetic person. Maybe she feels like she wants people to come to her, fulfilling their expectation by being the beloved shrink and wannabe "counselor" they all expect. The listening part anyway. Listening to secrets, listening to personal contemplations and struggles of the heart.

But if so, those are just her own struggles. And she would tell you right now that the struggles of others are not your own, and you should not bear the burden of the identity of another. Maybe we all want to identify -- find ourselves in someone or understand ourselves in something they say. Sometimes, it works. Other times, hearing others may only serve to project their feelings on to you. Besides...

But she took this experience to heart for next time. When her other friend was struggling. She contemplated sharing a blog post or saying some more inspirational thing, but she didn't. Maybe she was being wise and a little over-analytically honest again?

But she sent Raina a song called "Peace", and tried to say she wanted to be here for her friend, even though she did not ask what it was all about. I mean, Raina did not give the details readily, she just said she was struggling. Could be fair enough, right? Or no. The day after, she wondered if maybe she should have said something to ask or to let Raina know, outright, they could talk about it. So, she tried to come up with some implicit statement, and struggled for words. "Why can't I just say what I mean? What I feel? "I feel like maybe I should have asked you what was wrong" or "I was thinking that I should have asked you what was going on or if you wanted to talk about it. That you can."" What she came up with afterward was in a lot smoother wording than that, perhaps. She doesn't remember exactly. Except that words come easily after much thought. Sometimes after the event.

That if this world was not bombarding, assaulting her with questions and looking for answers, she already did not have the answers, and maybe hindered and countered her own thoughts inside.

Like maybe (she is not sure) why? Why does she want to be encouraging? Aren't her thoughts automatically suspicious of being inauthentic, not genuine, and shared just because that's what the world does and promotes? If it's not that, then you already know the rest.

A couple days later, she checks in with the second friend again.

"How are you doing today?"

"I am still struggling."

"Oh, I felt that, recently."

"Probably not for the same reason."

"Mm. :) This might help: >>>"

[What a cringy response she would have felt that was-- smiling when she did not know what say! As if her friend said nothing, which she kind of did. But she's smart enough to realize that Raina's nothing also says something. But I guess I am being a little presumptive, too.]

And the conversation progressed. She thought she knew what might have been wrong, but did not ask. She could have felt dumb, for all the other questions she did ask, she did not ask the most daunting, heavy, painful, real one. The one she figured she knew, but didn't.

She felt awkward with the exchanges from then and the days passing. The heart emoticon, when her friend seemed to lose it for a second and then apologize. Do I really love? Am I just being nice, or being selfish? The off-hand question about dance recital. But Raina was excited to see her, and they really have had good times. Sure, she has screwed up sometimes. Without her realizing -- perhaps showing affection when someone she is self-conscious of is around. Hoping she is not being fakely friendly. Wanting to connect. But there was good, too. Her willingness to talk, the fun they had when Raina acted like a middle-schooler when the dance interns were practicing pedagogy on each other. And more.

Tomorrow is the studio's first recital show of the weekend. But I can't tell you what happens on Friday yet, but she's never been. We are in the past, which is our present, and not yet her future. Never mind...

Anyway, how do I know all this? Well, she tells me. She does not think she does, but she knows she does. With some, gurgling underwater, yes, that can be a bit hard for one to interpret at times, but...she is a very...thoughtful person. At least, in one facet of a mirror reflection.

If you ever see her, tell her I said "Hi." Scratch that. Say "Hi" for me.