There comes a time when you have a decision to make about matters of the heart. You know you have to make it, you know you can’t put it off, but the possible consequences are potentially devastating. And you don’t want to deal with those consequences. But remaining silent will do nothing more than agitate you.
So you fret and fuss and overthink the shit out of it, wondering what to do. It plays on your mind, driving you even battier than you already are. But finally, you make the decision to speak to the other person, to tell them how you feel, consequences be damned. You have to be honest and true to yourself, even if that means nothing good will come of it.
And then, the decision is made for you. And as much as you’re relieved you don’t have to make it, it bothers you that the choice was taken away from you. It’s your call to make about how you communicate. You’re not upset with the other person; in a way, they’ve made it a lot easier for you to accept the situation and make peace with it. But you still wonder from time to time, what could have been, one way or the other.
It’s a familiar story, one whose refrain I’ve heard a lot over the years. But it’s very, very different when you’re the one making the decision. Very different indeed….