Hear Me

I’ve been having a lot of imaginary conversations lately. I’ve given the shower walls a good talking to several times in the past week…I think it knows its place now.

I’m a characteristic introvert you see, replaying scenes in my head, imagining things I think I wish I would have said. I am in control of the image I portray…living is the role of a lifetime, after all.

I don’t know if it helps me or hurts me that my most heavily-weighted MI component is intrapersonal (followed closely by interpersonal), but it certainly factors into my performance on this stage. I strive to be moderate in the face of conflict, but every now and then I imagine the feeling of euphoria one must feel in saying exactly what your temper wants you to say in the heat of the moment.

Unfortunately, I know myself well enough to know that self-loathing would soon follow. Words have power, and like gunfire, the damage cannot be undone once the ammunition hits its mark. Are you prepared to live with that gaping hole on your conscience? Are you?

I’m not.

It’s frustrating that I know I’m not, yet I have these fantasies of what it must feel like to not care about other people’s feelings after you’ve thrown your dagger, to not feel remorse.

I don’t plan on changing my modus operandi; I know I’m protecting my long-term sense of self. It’s that instant gratification center in my brain that is getting tired of my “make love not war” BS.

I have listened to many people in my age group claim that they are done playing “Captain Please-Everyone” or trying to be someone who they are not. Maybe this is the source of my unrest. I’m still working on that contentious voice inside. While I haven’t found an answer yet, I think I have to stop rehashing in the shower if I want to maintain any sort of healthy relationship with it.

I haven’t given the closet a piece of my mind yet though.

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