We want to say 'I forgive you'. We want to say 'I understand'. We want to say 'I know you've been through a lot, and I get that'. We want to say 'I'm sorry'. We want to say those three words.
But these words rise up inside of us and get caught at the back of the throat, like a fishbone that refuses to be coughed up or swallowed down. Instead we say something easier, hoping that by the slightest of changes in attitude, like by being slightly nicer to someone, or by sharing our problems with a third party, somehow, the other person will know how we feel.
People say that it's pride that gets in the way. But sometimes it's just the awkwardness of saying something as if out of the blue. It's the fear that in expressing a sentiment, you might find yourself unable to follow through. It's having experienced something together, but not knowing how to deal. It's seeing the person, and not knowing what to do.
A chronicle of nose growth
'...changing the form of one's mission's almost as difficult as changing the shape of one's nose:
they are, each, in the middle of one's face and one's character - one has to begin too far back.'
― Henry James. The Portrait of a Lady.
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