Lies and Other Communication Malfunctions

by karinaaax03

Dear James,

I’m extensively impressed with myself for managing to pull off my surprise visit this weekend! Your face when I walked into the Oak House unannounced was PRICELESS! Huge props to Rachel for facilitating that interaction.


Your face when you saw me

I had to lie to you so, so many times in an effort to make you believe that I was doing what you thought I should be doing. As you said just a few hours ago when you dropped me off, if nothing else my lies were consistent. Oddly enough, I often feel like one of my key personality traits is consistency.

I feel like every time I write you a post from a plane (I may be getting ahead of myself in this statement because this is only the second time I’ve done this) I have some deeply introspective/intense learning moment. On the other hand, sometimes it seems like most of my posts are intensely analytical/philosophical so who knows.

Regardless, I’ve got a ton on my mind and I’m not quite sure where to start. I enjoyed the line I said to you in the car that was along the lines of: if you don’t know what to say how can you say anything at all. I’m officially that asshole that quotes herself.
On that note though, I’ve been thinking about the whole not knowing what to say concept and I’ve realized that this happens to be with an absurd frequency. The issue is, however, that as with many instances in my life, I’m just lying to myself. I tell myself that I don’t know what I want to to say all the time, that I’m not quite sure how to put together what’s in my head, but the fact of the matter is that’s just not the case.

Truth is I’m just afraid to say what I want to say. It’s no secret that I’m not big on confrontation, so it probably comes as no surprise that my fear of having an unpleasant conversation frequently stops me from just saying what I’m thinking, but you know how long it takes me to admit something to myself, so no surprise on the delay I assume.

I’m making a vow to you to try my best to stop being afraid of ruffling feathers, so to speak. I’m 21 years old for fucks sake and if I’m gonna do this whole feather ruffling business, now is the time (and also when I’m old enough to pass a senile but some things simply can’t wait that long). Admittedly my version of messing shit up is probably far more low key than most other people’s, but baby steps, right?


The Basic One