Tell You

If I thought, for one second, that you were willing to hear me out, I'd tell you in a heartbeat everything you need to hear.

I'd tell you all about what you're not getting from her, from him, from whoever, and I'd tell you that you're wasting your time, because she/he/they are just using you as a means to an end. And you deserve better.

I'd tell you that sometimes taking a chance is the only way to make sure you're really safe, and I'd tell you that unless things change, you're going to be miserable from here on out. I'd tell you that you're not wrong, but you're not right either. That something's gotta give before that distinction can be made.

I'd tell you that I know it hurts, and I know you want to shy away from the pain, but you're going to have to feel it eventually. Don't anticipate the tears, and you will be fine. Overthinking the pain only makes it's eventual occurrence worse. Trust me on this.

I'd tell you that it's easy to give up at the first stretch of rocky road, and it's way too easy to turn back at that point... But also that you'll find the most beautiful scenery is usually at the end of that sketchy stretch. If you can stick it out, you'll be rewarded, and it'll be good.

At the same time, some roads are made to be impassable. Sometimes you hit up against a wall, and not only can't you climb it, you know it's inadvisable to try. Some things are deal breakers. I will forgive you once, I might forgive you twice, but when nothing changes, something breaks, and we'd all prefer it not to be our heart that's left lying in the gutter somewhere.

I'd tell you that, though everyone claims it's happened to them, no one knows exactly what you're going through. No one can tell you, detail for detail, exactly how to feel and act through it all. The best we can do for you is give you a hand when you need some extra strength, a shoulder when you need somewhere to cry, and a kind word or smile when you think it's all gone to hell. And quietly, at home, alone, our hearts break for every harsh word, cruel action, crueler inaction that hurts you.

I'd tell you that every time you smile, it brightens her day. But every time you frown, she worries that she's lost you. You have that much of an effect on her life. Don't ever doubt that.

I'd tell you that I'm happy for you, and I wish you all the best, but I don't think I can dance like this anymore. I don't want to cut you out of my life, but I don't want to go on the way we have been any longer.

I'd tell you that I miss you, and I wish I could spend every day with you. I miss swimming in the hallway and flour fights and pillow talk until the wee hours of the morning. I'd tell you I miss the sleepless nights, excited about this or devastated about that. And I miss the car filled with cases upon cases of empty Coke cans.

I'd tell you that once upon a time, I had a dream about you. I didn't understand it then, I don't understand it now, but I'm looking forward to seeing how it plays out.

I'd tell you not to give up. That every time you self-destruct, I see how vital and beautiful you are all the more clearly. And I wish you could see that, too.

I'd tell you that it's okay to have secrets. That you don't have to tell me every detail of your life if you don't want to. But that I'm always willing to listen.

I'd tell you that you don't need the drama. That you could be a fine person on your own without needing to hide behind the melee. That you maybe don't see how fantastic you are, and it saddens me that you let them beat you down enough to hide your awesomeness.

I'd tell you that I appreciate having you in my life. You may be older/younger than me, but I am so thankful that we found some sort of connection. Because every day you surprise and delight me.

I'd tell you that I wish I'd made more of an effort to keep you close, because I can see how much you've grown and changed over the years, and it's hard to close the gap after this much time. I admire the hell out of you.

I'd tell you that she doesn't love you. I'm sorry, I wish she did, and I wish it could work out, but she doesn't. I'd tell you this and then not tell you that I do. Or did. Or might. I'd tell you without telling you about my feelings because I'm scared they might be painting over what's really there with my own ideal picture.

I'd tell you that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I appreciate your concern. I'd tell you I look forward to the bumps and bruises yet to come, because if someone hurts you, it means you cared. And caring goes a long way towards living a full life... with or without the scars.

I'd tell you that I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted and needed. And that I'm sorry I wanted to hold onto you even though you needed something more. And also that... I am really excited that your life is going so well, and I am grateful that you still let me be a part of it.

I'd tell you all of this... and so much more... if I thought you would only listen.