Did You Get My Message?

I often wonder how life would be if I had the guts, and the opportunity, to tell people how I really feel and what I really think. I wonder if things would work out how I want them to or if it would be the downfall of everything.

I think of what I would say, if it would matter. If my words were a magic wand I would definitely do it and I would change things; fix things.

I would say, “Do you realize your children are two of the most amazing people in the world, and that they’re almost done raising themselves? Do you really want ten or fifteen or twenty years to go by where you are nothing more than a footnote? Don’t you want to know these people who are so incredible? Don’t you know you’ll be insanely lucky if they let you back in because you sure as heck don’t deserve it? Don’t you want to deserve it?”

I would say, “You’re incredible and amazing and I know I’m older and supposedly smart and mature, but you guys are my inspiration. You’re the kind of people I want to be and the kind of people I want to be around.”

I would say, “Look around you. You have all these amazing opportunities and you don’t even seem to care; you expect life to be more than what it is, but if you want more you have to go out there and grab it. You have to stop being afraid of things and make things happen for yourself, because that’s the only way you’ll ever be happy.”

I would say, “I don’t know what I want from you. Maybe to go back in time and start over, maybe to forget about you, maybe to always be together, maybe to hate you. I don’t know. But I know I want you to be happy and I know you’ve become important to me and I know I can’t get rid of that feeling. So when I do figure out what I want to say, I want the door to be open for me to talk.”

I would say, “One of the only things keeping me here is you and your beauty. What you have inside of you is so much greater than anyone ever tells you and I don’t know how to say it myself. When I say you are the most beautiful person I know I mean it in every sense of the word.”

I would say, “Who are you? And do you know I still think of you? Do you know you are one of the biggest reasons I am who I am today? Do you know how much you inspired me to endure even when it was difficult and to do what is right when it’s so much easier to not? Well. Now you know.”

I would say, “Let’s be funny, fantastical, fedora-wearing friends. I never wanted to lose touch with you and now that I have the opportunity to get to know you again, I want to take it because you are insanely incredible. I just don’t know if you want to know me again.”

I would say, “We have known each other only nine months and already you know me better than some people who have known me for years. I never want to lose that; I want you to know how much you matter to me.”

I would say, “Please don’t grow into your mother; she’s 90% of the reason we’re no longer friends.”

I would say, “I just called to say I think you’re a really shallow friend. I don’t need herbal enhancers to feel good about myself.”

And I’m not sure what it would change, really, except that the things I think in my mind would be said out loud and it would be… I don’t know… honest. And read. And would probably cause a whole mess of things, which is mostly why I don’t say them.

And, okay okay, that last one was a quote from Napoleon Dynamite. What can I say? Deb’s just awesome like that.

Oh and PS? I’ve decided to start doing naming all my posts using song titles. So fun!