Most of You Don't Share Your Thoughts

and why people need to hear them

Mar 07, 2023

On Friday night I was at a get-together with some friends and family, some of whom spent the night there—I did not.

I found myself in the bottom bunk of my bed-filled bedroom with my fountain pen, journals, and my thoughts. All alone. Oh, wait.

And my phone.

Normally, that would’ve been the downside of it all; in a standoff like this one, the result is generally me leaving my phone on one end of the house and retreating to the other side to have my creative alone time without distractions. Tonight, that was strangely different.

As most of us have probably experienced, phones can be wonderful; in my experience: I mostly hate them, but more on that in a later newsletter.

I decided I wouldn’t desert my phone so soon because I figured on playing some music (which never happened, by the way), but as usual, something came up. Something always comes up.

I looked down to check the notification. It was a text from a friend I’d been talking with earlier that day. I sent her a poem I wrote that morning, which started a casual conversation. That quickly turned into her asking how I was doing. We hadn’t talked in a while. I sort of dodged the question… For hours. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer it, I just generally hate answering it. Make of that what you will.

Regardless, of all the casual questions, it’s my least favorite. I literally went on about the heavy rain that morning instead.

Needless to say, it was a rather lousy attempt at “dodging;” about like trying to get rid of a tennis ball by throwing it at the wall in front of you.

“How are you though?”

For some reason, I opted to answer just then—just as I was about to have my beautiful, quiet, solitary, mind-to-paper time.

So, I knew I must put some thought into it. “Good,” clearly wasn’t an option. I was “good,” but that was beside the point. Something I’d said at the party earlier then struck me. The phrase, “Je vais bien.” I always liked this phrase as an answer to such a question, it seemed to me a far better alternative to “I’m good.”

If one were to take the words and separate them, it would result in: “I go good.” That was perfect. I was good. But I was just very busy. Life was flying along, and I was just going… And doing so well.

I laughed at this answer. But I was content to send it; I would explain it later. Anyway, it was better than that dreaded “I’m good.”

It got me thinking…

“I’ve been writing a bit. Contemplating stuff. Journaling loads. I’m in a constant struggle to remain busy with a productive life—painting, writing, school, bodybuilding, spending time with the kids (my younger brothers), and at the same time always remembering that ‘my work isn’t my life, but that my life is my work;’ it’s the balance of getting to your destination promptly, but still stopping on the way to smell the roses.”

And then something else came to mind. I needed to ask someone something.

At this point, I didn’t hesitate. I had already started down this road; I might as well continue.

In a moment of impulsiveness and pure procrastination, I contacted another friend about a short story I wrote and was (am) in the process of self-publishing. The next moment I remembered it was 11:08 p.m. and I probably shouldn’t be texting her such questions at such an hour, but it was already done.

Then she texted back at 11:09, so I had zero regrets. She was going to be extremely busy this week and wouldn’t be able to meet with me for another week or so.

I figured that was it. I had my answer. I didn’t feel any extremely pressing urges at the moment. I thought hard… Nope. Nothing. I wasn’t about to drink more coffee—seven cups were probably more than I needed anyway. Did I need to go to the bathroom? No.

Finally, I had no excuse but to pick up my fountain pen and write.

Then I went on with her by saying it was “Probably a blessing in disguise so I can not be busy constantly… gives me a minute to breathe.”

The conversation went all over the place from there. It turned rather deep rather fast, and before I knew it, I wrote something in a text that I’d been trying to force from my pen onto that darn journal for the last forty-five minutes—something slightly poetic, an insight waiting to be recognized, a beautiful thought just dying to be found:

“A thing to remember is that without pain health isn’t appreciated; without darkness, light seems dull; without valleys, mountain-tops aren’t spectacular; without weakness, strength is not strong; without evil, there is no understanding of good; and without sadness, joy is merely a fleeting feeling, a laugh caught on the wind and carried away, useless and ultimately meaningless…”

“…It’s along the train of thought around which I believe all of life revolves, the meaning of life, that is: everything is obsolete unless it has an opposite… Or at least, I think just about everything is. It gives a perspective that may calm you and may help you think of the darker side of life a little better. Even God wouldn’t be who God is if Satan didn’t exist. The opposite of something is what gives us humans perspective…”

I knew I had stumbled across a “rose,” as I like to call them. I wasn’t looking for it, not here anyway. I think that’s the beauty of them. In fact, that’s the beauty of most lovely things—they are found when you least expect if you will only keep your eyes open.

I contribute this “rose” to the friends I spoke with. Generally, the phone does distract me and often only hurts my flow of creativity, and my ability to see the “roses.”

I suppose I got lucky that night.

i got used to being a loner

Over the last year and a half, I have lost touch with almost all of my friends… All the ones I was close to. You know, those friends you would talk to about anything, everything, and nothing. The ones you could chill with in silence and it wasn’t awkward. It’s a complicated, long story.

Needless to say, it was hard. I’ve always been the type to have a lot of friends. I was never an introvert, never the lone wolf, never the guy who hung out by himself just for the heck of it. I loved people; I loved being the person people confided in. Letting go of all that felt like changing my identity.

Without going too in-depth, I learned to be positive about it. I have come to adore spending time in my own space, in silence, with just the wind or the songs of the birds outside my window. I learned to be okay without having friends to talk “deep” with all the time. Truthfully, I have grown as a person through it more than I can describe.

Those conversations last week made me realize just how far I have pushed on the side of being a loner. I still spend time with people, of course, I do have ten siblings, after all. That’s not what I mean.

When my friends left, I struggled for months thinking I couldn’t possibly be “alright” without the deep connections I had before. How could I ever go on without them?

But I was missing something. I was missing those potential relationships right around me, for one. Secondly, I was stupid to think I couldn’t change, or couldn’t be okay “alone.”

Through this process of healing, however, I made the mistake of thinking that I don’t need anyone. Yes, I have become stronger than I have ever been regarding independence and confidence, finding my voice and outlet for my feelings outside of those close friendships—I am proud of that.

But with every deeper conversation I’ve had with an old friend or even with someone I am just beginning to know, I learn so much. I walk away with a sense of enlightenment. It’s as if I took a breath of fresh air that enlivened my whole being.

Perhaps it sounds a bit silly—rather obvious maybe—but don’t forget that people are beautiful. Everyone looks at the world a little bit differently. Everyone has a slice of perspective that could be just what you need today.

For me, it was hearing what a friend was going through that reminded me of a beautiful truth; it was the question of a friend which forced me to think, to be reflective in a way I wouldn’t have been otherwise.

Share your thoughts. People need to hear them. Listen to people. They need to be heard.

The poem I sent to my friend: