I stand here, waiting for you to arrive. I invited you here today because I have something that I want to say to you, and I wanted to be sure you were available to listen. You're my friend, and I want to be open with you, honest. I'm trying so hard. I see your car pull up, and you get out. You approach me, and we hug. Then you fidget just a little, and look at me expectingly.
"Friend, I..." I look up at you. You are waiting to hear what I have to say, waiting to hear why I've brought you here today. I know I sounded funny when we last spoke -- kind of urgent and a little stressed. You're thinking the worst, and I'm not doing much to allay your fears. I'm not sure how to say this. I'm not sure what you will think when you hear what I want. "Well, I need to ask you a favor."
You nod your head and hum a little sound, encouraging me to continue. You've always been so understanding. You generally grant what I ask of you. You share your heart with me, and I share mine with you. And each time we meet, we part as better friends. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous to say this. You'll help me through it; I know.
"If you happen to speak to my parents," I slowly speak the words, carefully phrasing them to convey the right meaning. I don't want you to feel you have to speak to my parents. I don't know if you ever do. I don't know what your relationship is like with them. I haven't asked. I'm afraid of hearing that you are closer to my parents than I am, that you have spoken to them more recently than I. "Please don't tell them about this journal, or my LiveJournal."
Now I'm watching you expectantly. What are you thinking? I can see you mulling this over in your mind, however briefly. And I don't know if I should explain. I take a breath and open my mouth to begin, and then I change my mind and close my mouth without uttering a sound. I'm waiting for you to ask why. I'm deciding what to tell you... how to explain this odd request.
I realize that I am saying one thing and doing another. I want to be a more open and honest person, and yet I am hiding things from my parents. I will share things with you, whom I haven't spoken to in so long, but I won't share them with my family? How do I reconcile this request with my conscience? What am I thinking? What is my reasoning? I can see all of these questions, and more, forming within your brain.
I feel as though I can't hold it in anymore. You've been quiet for a split second, but it has felt like an eternity to me. I have to explain. I have to know what you think. I'm afraid the words will come pouring out, and I won't be able to control them... The thoughts are thundering through my brain, and I don't know where they're all coming from. I imagine that I'm saying it all, and I hear a tiny little voice that isn't even mine. I don't recognize the words being spoken in my imagination, yet I know they're mine. I've been pondering them for so long that they must be mine.
I'm just getting back on a solid ground with them. I love them and I'm afraid of hurting my mom. My dad too, but especially my mom. I don't know how to tell them about things that they diapprove of. I'm always afraid that they will be disappointed, that they won't like what they hear. I'm afraid that if I tell them the real truth... the stuff I've shoved so far deep down inside my heart that I don't even remember it all... if I tell them all of that, what will they say. Will they sit there, stunned? Will Mom get mad? Will Dad try to reason with me?
Basically... I'm afraid that they'll stop coming up. I'm afraid they'll stop answering the phone when I call. I'm afraid that I will never go to Grandma or Grandpa's again. I'm afriad that my son will be afraid of them. I'm afraid that I will always disappoint them, that I will hurt them again. I want our relationship to be good; I want it to be strong. But if I tell them when I'm angry, they might not understand and they might think it's an always thing.
As I think about all of this I also imagine your response. I imagine you'd tell me that my parents love me and that they will not judge me like that. You'd tell me that of course you won't tell them, but you will be praying that I find the words and the courage to tell them myself. I'm praying that as well.
So... now I'm asking...
Friend, thanks for coming. I asked you to come because I...
Well, I need to ask you a favor.
If you see my parents, please don't mention my blog.
And I sit here typing and I am dying... What is your response?