I like you best, 'cause my heart makes the most interesting sounds every time you break it.

In some recent adventures along my procrastination-filled, insomnia-ridden journey, I recently came across this website titled wouldhavesaid.com. (thanks, StumbleUpon!) Initially, it got my attention because the premise of the page seemed as though it had the potential to get some interesting feedback: "Whether the person has passed away, contact was lost, or the strength needed at the time was lacking, this is a chance to say what you have always wanted them to know."
I've always been drawn to looking back, to hearing people's stories, to honesty, and-frankly- to being kind of a creep and living semi-vicariously through the feelings of other people. So naturally, this site actually caught my attention. The kinds of stories people shared also gripped me: of a woman finally confronting a childhood abuser, of siblings working through the suicide of a sister, of a granddaughter who are is still ashamed of her silence on the day she heard her grandmother being mocked by some kids her age. Stories of lovers lost, of friendships torn apart, and stories of hope. It makes me vaguely uneasy reading through people's stories, and to be honest, I can't really go through too many too often, because I begin to become kind of cynical. I wonder if these stories are true, whether anyone REALLY needs to write a five-page letter about how they miss their cat, and I start judging their writing style. It's not that I'm an awful person--promise--but I think it's a coping mechanism.
I think it's safe to say that everybody has unfinished business of some sort. Things to say, people to make things right with, and stories that haven't been told that really should be. Some stories, while we might not identify with them situation by situation, can hit close to home because the feelings behind it are that raw and difficult to digest. It takes a lot of bravery to deal with our regrets, simply because we often can't always do much about them, particularly when the individuals involved are deceased, or impossible to contact (either for geographical reasons, emotional reasons, or whatever other reason you can come up with.) Reading through some of the entries on the site, and hearing people pour out so much unrestrained emotion is a phenomena that rarely happens in the ordinary world, so it provokes a strange combination of curiosity and detachment and empathy within me, personally. And, since I'm all about the application, makes me wonder who I need to say my "would-have-said's" to now.
Eventually, I came to the perspective that there's a reason we don't often discuss our deepest, most troubling, or most embarrassing "would-have-said's" to people straight to their faces. The primary reason is fear, either of the consequences within oneself, of the individual themselves, or of the aftermath. Sometimes it's easier to go along without confrontation and to deal with things when we feel we are at a place where the individual/individuals are no longer in a position to harm us. Vulnerability is a frightening concept. It's sometimes easier to write out our feelings and thoughts and emotions than it is to actually address them, which is probably part of the reason I blog in the first place. It's like a free therapy session. Sometimes, I like to write out the things I want to say to the people I'm mad at/hurt by/sorry for acting like a jerk to but too embarrassed to admit it to...etc...and then I at least know that, should the opportune moment arrive, I know I'd have something to say.
It's tempting to just go all passive-aggressive here and write out all my innermost frustrations with all the people who stress me out and cause me pain and who I'm too chicken to deal with to their faces right here...but I'm tired and I also think that it is probably a terrible plan, because this is not the time of day to get all up close and personal with my feelings. Or anything besides a pillow and dreamland. But the sound of rain on the roof and my window is peaceful, and I'm kind of addicted to the white light emanating from my computer screen. Maybe I will later. If it seems like an appropriate idea when I wake up. Which will, hopefully, be many, many hours from now.

Night/morning, folks!