Anyone who can claim to know me, knows that I enjoy poetry. Both reading it and writing it. (Although admittedly, the latter is just me messing about with freeform and the like). What only a handful of people know is that I have a favourite poet, who goes by the name of Emily Dickinson. I was looking through a book of her poetry and quotes today and found a line that made me pause. It's something that I'm in two minds about, and I shall explain why afterwards;
"Saying nothing...sometimes says the most."
I would agree with this quotation only so far. Oh, you can type something of the sort into Google and come up with a thousand and one sayings that dictate that people ought to listen and not talk...Now I don't know about you, Dearest Reader, but dead silence doesn't really say a lot. My reasoning? I cannot listen to people unless they talk. Oh, words can lie to be sure. But when they are all you have to talk to a person, whether it be by letter or the internet or by text...they are important. Even using the phone...any medium where body language can't be seen, words are damned important. The problem comes when people don't talk and expect you to be telepathic. It's happened quite a lot to me recently; the lack of communication, I mean. I feel as though I'm trying to tread water when it's really quicksand. I have always, always told people that I'm a willing ear. Some people find it good to just offload to someone to get things off their chest. There's another Emily Dickinson poem that I wholeheartedly agree with;
"If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain, If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain."
Some would call me foolish or idealistic for saying that, but it's wholeheartedly true. Some people want to rule the world, others want to own a large house and have a family with their golden retriever and 2.4 children. Me? I carry on surviving because I know that each day I'm almost guaranteed to make one person smile. Something people don't know is that it frustrates me when I'm unable to help, unable to make them truly smile. I can't help if I don't know what the matter is. Granted, most of the time I might not be able to help anyway. My Nana went to the hospital this morning for an appointment to check the cataract she has in her right eye. (I didn't know about it until after, naturally). Her eye isn't something I can make better, no matter how much I wish I could...but the fact I wasn't told about her going to hospital made me start thinking. Do people not realise that I tend to worry /more/ when I'm not told things? When I finally get around to hearing the truth of matters, my heart actually aches. I'm not one for pretty sentimentality when I'm writing...but my heart's been aching all day. Not just because of my Nanas situation, but due to the dozens of other things that have been happening.
Communication. I would rather have ugly, naked truth than prettily veiled lies or half truths. I suppose an argument could be that I never ask questions...but my answer to that is that I don't like prying. I don't want people to think I'm being invasive. See my predicament? I care far too much about people. A few of my best friends have told me that my loyalty and caring nature will be my downfall, and if today is anything to go by, I'm starting to think that they're correct.
Perhaps I'm being a slight hypocrite. There are times that I don't tell other people things...but the difference is that I don't expect them to know through some magical means or do anything about it. Perhaps I expect too much of people...but when they know that I know (if that makes sense, dear reader), about something, then still play dumb...it narks me a little, and I believe with good cause. I'm not as clueless as I sometimes act. If anything, I'm a very, very perceptive being.
I was called 'The Hero with a Thousand Faces' once. I laughed it off. I'm no Hero. I'm human. a pitiful excuse for a human whose bark is far worse than her bite, and who is still even at the age of nineteen terrified of actual reciprocated emotion towards another living creature. But oh, that doesn't stop me caring. And I ache and wince when I realise there's nothing I can do for people. For two reasons. It means I'm human after all, and it means that they're still in a turmoil.
But I digress in my somewhat twitchy state. (For some reason, Dear Reader, I've been paranoid today, not a feeling that I've had for a while). I don't care what people say, communication is one of the most important things on this earth. I'll recount that to anyone. Unfortunately, not a lot of people act as though this is the case any more. Jon disappeared off the face of the planet. Will didn't contact me when he couldn't make a meeting. My family doesn't tell me about issues that concern me by proxy, and I'm beginning to grow tired of taking all the steps and making most of the effort when it comes to my friends.
"This is my letter to the world-- who never wrote to me..."
