Hello Wall, It’s Me, Jen!

 

brick

Virgos are ruled by Mer­cury, the plan­et of com­mu­ni­ca­tion. It didn’t come as a sur­prise that I nev­er had prob­lems speak­ing in front of a crowd. I sel­dom get stage fright. I’m not afraid to say what’s on my mind, which may come off as blunt to some. A few brave ones told me I’m tact­less. I’ve nev­er mas­tered the art of diplo­ma­cy, where you could tell peo­ple to go to hell in a way that they’d be look­ing for­ward to the trip. But it didn’t offend me because I was just being hon­est, and didn’t mean any harm. I’ve made peace that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m more like a shot of tequi­la any­way.

For the life of me, I don’t under­stand why peo­ple can’t be straight­for­ward at all. It’s like a metas­ta­siz­ing mind worm that I can’t fig­ure out. I try to see it from their point of view. There are only 2 log­i­cal con­clu­sions I can think of: 1) they didn’t want to hurt my feel­ings, 2) they are lying/or with­hold­ing infor­ma­tion. Some would pussy­foot, or just flat out ignore you, which is rude. I know I’m a lot of things but nev­er rude if I can help it.

I don’t demand every­one to be forth­right. The hell I care if most peo­ple don’t lev­el with me. But the sad thing is, it is usu­al­ly the peo­ple I care about that aren’t up front. I’m start­ing to ques­tion if I’m the one in the wrong here. Am I dif­fi­cult to talk to? Is some­thing wrong with how I com­mu­ni­cate? Am I scary that they’re afraid to talk to me? Do I seem frag­ile that they think I can’t han­dle what­ev­er it is they want­ed to say? Do you want me to stop car­ing?

Love makes me do fun­ny and stu­pid things. I’m all for giv­ing peo­ple I love chances. I’ve giv­en chances to peo­ple who don’t deserve it. But I don’t have a well­spring of patience. It has nev­er been my strongest suit. I try to be patient most of the time, espe­cial­ly with kids and ani­mals. How­ev­er, grown-up turds don’t count. Do not mis­take my affec­tion for weak­ness, my silence for igno­rance.

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You can hurt me because I let you. But I have the pow­er to take my blind­ers off. I just know when I’m done. I have this inter­nal switch that goes off and that’s it. Don’t make it easy for me to walk away. When I still want to talk to you, that means I care about you, I don’t want you to won­der what’s on my mind. Us mat­ter to me, you mat­ter. The minute I stop talk­ing is when I cease to care. I’d rather be hurt by the truth than be cud­dled by pre­tense. One doesn’t have to oper­ate with great mal­ice to cause harm. The absence of empa­thy is enough.

 

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