Lost documents

Back when I was younger and more prone to emotional outbursts, I was talking to a friend of mine about some traumatic event or other that happened recently in my life, and I remember her saying "You know, you write the most eloquent lines about the most distressing events." Perhaps there's some truth what she said, and perhaps I have my father to thank for that. Since I was about ten, he mandated that I write him a letter every Christmas and another on his birthday. On this document, I was to describe to him various important events that happened through the year. After a while, I started writing letters to him when I was enraged about something he had said or done--things that would run through my head, but that I could never verbalize. A while, they were written whenever something bothered me. 

I never sent these letters; some of them were inappropriate, some would cause more trouble than they're worth. But I wrote them, and I still write them, because even if I can't say what I'm thinking to the person directly, putting them down, transforming thoughts and ideas to coherent statements, somehow makes me feel better.

They're useful things, and sometimes I go back and read them (the ones that haven't been lost or accidentally deleted during the various reformats my poor computer has undergone). Things that had seemed life-ending then can now be put into perspective, with a few more years of experience and the knowledge of what happens after.

Lately, though, I haven't had much time to write, and have started saying the things I think without first judging whether or not they're appropriate. It's been causing a few conflicts, I think.

And as much as we may claim to always "say what we think" (or as Danielle puts it, "Say what you mean, mean what you say"), the truth is sometimes what we're thinking just isn't something that should be said.

I feel like such a hypocrite for saying that.