Confrontation has always been a daunting concept for me, a vast and turbulent ocean of emotions and fears that I find myself drowning in. The mere thought of addressing issues directly makes my heart race and my palms sweat. I often feel like I’m standing at the edge of a precipice, afraid to take that step forward, fearing that I might fall into a chasm of misunderstandings and ruined relationships. Every unspoken truth is a ball in my throat, aching to be released, restrained by the fear of the unknown. It’s not just the fear of being misunderstood; it’s the dread of irrevocably altering the relationship dynamics I hold dear.
If I dare to stake the confines, what tumult shall uncoil within this fragile universe? Each boundary, a thread frayed, a fissure in the delicate porcelain, threatens the equilibrium of all I’ve gingerly arranged. In this daring act, would the world cease its gentle spin, or would it spiral, like ink in water, staining the very fabric I’ve long sought to preserve? A tempest within, a clash of desires against duty, a war of selfhood against the perceived obligations, whispering the unbearable price of liberation.
In other words, what will happen if I set boundaries?
I’m not the problem, you are. You are the worst possible friend. Don’t call me a horrible person but you’re far from the perfect princess you try to portray yourself as.
Backspace.
I can’t say that.
The overwhelming feeling of helplessness engulfs me, leaving me paralysed and unable to express my thoughts and emotions effectively. I know that bottling up my feelings isn’t healthy, but the fear of confrontation, of blowing up and losing control, holds me back. It’s a vicious cycle – the more I avoid confrontations, the heavier the burden on my shoulders becomes, dragging me deeper into the abyss of my own silence.
Please be better to me, I don’t want to hurt you, I still love you. Don’t make me feel like I have to walk on eggshells around you. I don’t want to. I am not a bad friend and just because I take it from you, don’t cross my boundaries.
Backspace.
I can’t be this nice. She hurt me way more than I am trying to.
I am deeply attuned to every subtle shift in the atmosphere, every non-verbal cue, every word left unsaid. These subtle shifts in conduct pierce me deeply, rendering the mere act of discourse an arduous endeavour. . It’s a struggle to voice the pain caused by those I care about, especially when I fear that my honesty might inflict wounds too deep to heal.
Can we speak about something that is bothering me?
Sure, I’m free later today. I’ll call you after my class.
I can’t speak to her in person. I can’t afford to break down. I’ll back down then never say it out loud. If I don’t say it now, I will never say it. Should I see her or not?
If it’s not a problem can we talk over text?
I guess? What even happened that you can’t speak to me. Speak to my face
It’s about the way you spoke to me at the party. In front of everyone we know.
I didn’t think you would have a problem with that. You seemed fine at the party and you’ve never minded when I did this before. I’m so confused.
It did hurt me. If I never said it to you before, it doesn’t give you the right to speak to me and about me like that.
I don’t know, I think it was fine.
Honestly, fuck you for talking to me so disrespectfully and acting like I’m the sole problem here. You’ve been a bad friend to me too and just because I’m not as blunt as you doesn’t mean you get to say and call me whatever. It’s so easy for you to say I’m a horrible person but you’re far from perfect and you’ve crossed my boundaries by talking to me the way you do and making me feel like I have to walk on eggshells. I did my part, I did my best. I’m not perfect but I wouldn’t treat a friend the way you have. I’m done too, man. I tried communicating.
Don’t worry about it, we’re fine. I love you.
In the depths of my struggle with confrontation, I find myself constantly searching for ways to break free from the suffocating silence that envelops me. The fear of damaging relationships, of being perceived as the cause of discord, becomes a heavy shroud that stifles my ability to express my genuine emotions. Each attempt to confront feels like standing on a tightrope, balancing between my own needs and the fear of upsetting the delicate equilibrium of my relationships.
The weight of unspoken words bears down on my soul, an invisible burden that only intensifies as time passes. I yearn for the strength to shatter the silence, to articulate the feelings that have long been confined within the recesses of my heart. Yet, the fear of rejection and the potential fallout from confrontation create a formidable barrier, leaving me stranded in a sea of unexpressed sentiments.
I’m done with you
Goodnight, I love you.