It's fun...maybe it's the writer in me...just to look-up expressions and see how easily they can be defined when we're just so used to using them that we never even think twice about it.
I looked-up what it means to wear one's heart on one's sleeve today.
I do that.
I do that all the time.
Not only is my heart on my sleeve, but it's in a really, really vivid fluorescent pink color.
I remember when my father first became ill when I was 15. I didn't tell anybody for a while, and then one morning a teacher I didn't even HAVE that semester pulled me into her classroom before the day started. She told me I hadn't been my bubbly self lately, that all of my friends and teachers were very worried about me.
How did somebody I didn't even see in class every day know that something was (so very much so) wrong?
I was just that transparent.
I remember when I had developed a big crush on an "older guy" (he was 24 to my 19...and yet that seemed so grown-up back then!) I was working with. Another coworker guessed my secret right away and said that it was so easy to tell with me...that I became one of those doe-eyed cartoon characters whenever he was around.
There's that transparency again.
Although I should have grown-up a lot since both of these incidents, I still wear my heart on my sleeve...but recently I felt that just being like that wasn't good enough...that I needed to really be open about my feelings to somebody...and I was. I never really felt the need to pour-out my heart and mind before, because I always figured people knew exactly how I felt...they always were able to tell in the past...and that it wasn't necessary.
But a couple of weeks ago, I decided, just to be sure somebody knew how I felt, I needed to write it all in a long email stating my case. I have never found any kind of peace writing "letters never sent." (I've tried.) I need to send those letters, need to know the person has read them and, unfortunately...really need a response.
I never got a response from that email I sent...and I would be lying if I said it isn't really bothering me, that I haven't reread that outpouring of emotions a thousand times and wondered if I said something tragically wrong that eternally cost me a friendship.
Right now, I am wondering if it was worth it...should I have just continued to wear my heart on my sleeve, hoping that everybody would just know my entire story by looking at me...or did I do the right thing by telling this person how I felt? I don't like the thought that silence means indifference...I hope, in this case, it doesn't.
Maybe I'm really naive and need to stop being such a mess of emotions. Maybe I have to stop expecting people to act the way that I would act and that not everybody has the misfortune and blessing of being one of the top 10% of Most Sensitive People in the World...