Lost in Translation

I really can't help the way I think and feel, just as you can't. You don't realize when you hurt me, and I bottle it up. I bury it so no one has to see. I'm ashamed of having feelings. I'm ashamed of letting things get to me. I am supposed to be a wall. I'm supposed to be an iron fortress. But I'm not. I'm just a person who feels everything whether they want to or not.

You say you like cold climates. I don't live in particularly cold climates. It's temperate. We made plans in the distant past to go to the tropics. I casually say that the tropics are nice. You say you much prefer the cold. The tropics burn. You can't wear sunscreen. Paris is so much better even though you've never been to the tropics. You want to buy a home there so that you're always in cold weather.

My translation: "I don't like warmth and humidity. I made plans to live elsewhere. Where you live and where we had planned to go will make me unhappy."

My solution: I don't want you to be unhappy. You don't have to come here anymore. I will accept that our past plans are in the past and that they won't happen. Reality check received.

You say you don't want to join a game. You have no interest. You don't like it.
My thought: "I really had hoped it would be something you'd enjoy because it has all your favorite elements. Even if you don't understand the world, it's not important. It can be anything you make of it. But since you don't like it, I'll remind myself not to be hurt and instead of putting you on the spot with future invitations, I'll kind of feel the situation out and gather my own conclusions from your responses."
Your thought: I'm pissed because you won't play my one specific game and I'm throwing a fit over it.

You want to play an old game that's caused personal troubles for us.
My inner reaction: "Great. Now we'll fight again and take a giant leap back. I'll be risking any progress I've made with you and maybe this time we'll never speak again. But it's something you really want. It makes you happy. Do I start again and show you with this gesture that I trust you and would risk anything to make you happy? Or do I refuse to try and preserve what we have, and risk hurting your feelings? Either way, I could ruin our friendship forever."
My outer reaction: *silence*
Your conclusion: I'm still angry with you.
Your outer reaction: Asking if promising to behave will make me play a game with you.
Inner feelings: "She feels like I don't think she's good enough. She feels like she's being punished. I'm the worst friend on the planet and I should just go jump into a ravine so my body breaks and that'll just eliminate the need for having to choose."

I realize that no matter what, I'm always going to fall short because I'm really not good enough for this. I'm not strong enough, I have too much distrust of people, and I'm constantly hurting. I expect you to be more intuitive than you are and I can't express how I feel except to strangers in an anonymous blog.
My conclusion: "Nothing is ever going to be the same, is it? I can't do anything without hurting you and I can't show you when you hurt me. We're both in this perpetual state of limbo where we both want to be careful and don't think that we should have to give any ground. We want to change to make each other happy, but at the same time defiantly assert that we should be accepted as we are. I shouldn't try anymore because it's just wasted. It's never going to get past this."
Your conclusion: I don't want things to be okay. I don't want to be happy. I don't want us to be friends. Every time you try to open up, I shut you down. Every time you trust, I rip out your heart and laugh at you. Every time you share your ambitions, I question why you bother with it. And then I get all offended at the slightest things out of nowhere. I'm horrible.
My thought: "Yes, I am horrible. I expect too much of you. You think I get upset out of nowhere because all my emotions are buried in subtext. You think I'm pissed about the smallest things because I can't tell you what the underlying cause is and how long it's been going on. I can't. And that's my fault. And I'm sorry. And I wish I could show you that I love you in the way you need to be shown. I wish I could be like a normal human so that things were easier. But I can't be any other way because I don't know how. And I can't expect you to change. So that's just the way it is."
Your thought: I'm being unkind out of nowhere, pissed off  irrationally and childishly because you like Paris and don't want to play a game. I'm throwing a tantrum and trying to get you to say mean things so that I can feel validated in my suffering.
Inside: "I can see how you'd think that. But I'm genuinely accepting this as my fault. I know it is. You only ever get to see the tip of the iceberg and that really does make me look like a child having a fit. But it's not. And I'd show you that, but I don't see the point anymore. You won't see it. I'll feel hurt. Round and round we go.
Outside: Why bother? Just be silent and sit there. Nothing will make it better. Everything will make it worse. Just let her talk and just take it, whatever she says.


I'm a bad friend.