Phillip,
When I was a girl, four years old, my mom gave a party and at some point late in the evening I was still awake (my dad was overseas) and a man came in my room and sat down on my bed. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but he sat and talked with me, and he did something remarkable. He took a book and put it under my pillow. He told me to keep it there, that whenever I felt I wasn’t a part of things, it wouldn’t make any difference because I would have something of my own to do. All I had to do was take the book out and read it. I was too young then to know how to read, and he probably didn’t know that, and I’m sure if he had he still wanted to plant that seed, and to this day I don’t know who he was, but I do know the effect that had on me: I still believe people are understanding and compassionate.
And I assume that first about them.
Experience has shown me that other people weren’t as lucky as that, and they distrust others first. And when they see compassion/niceness in people they think it’s weakness.
I think you’ve made that mistake. You’ve seen my compassion as unsureness, my niceness as weakness.
I’m not saying this in any sentimental idea of us ever seeing each other again, but I do know that in the future when you meet someone, if you judge them as you did me, even if it is you that leaves first again, once more you’ll be alone.
Gloria