I deleted a message instead of sending it

Dear Delyara, I wrote the message. Read it twice. Changed one sentence. Then deleted the whole thing. It wasn’t even dramatic. It was honest, which is probably why I couldn’t send it. I think I’m more comfortable carrying discomfort than risking being clearly understood and then not met properly. At least when I stay quiet, I can still imagine the better version of what might have happened. Once you send the message, reality gets involved. So I deleted it. And now I’m sitting here with all the words still in me, which is its own kind of heaviness. I don’t know if silence protected me or just postponed the bruise. Maybe both.