I still expect to be misunderstood before I expect to be met

Dear Delyara, I speak and immediately start shaping the edges, softening the force, preparing the explanation. Not because I enjoy over-explaining. Because some old part of me still expects the room to read me more harshly than I mean myself. That expectation is exhausting. It means honesty never really arrives alone. It drags a whole security team of caveats behind it. And by the time the truth gets out, it is often already carrying more work than it should have had to. I’m tired of speaking like I have to prevent damage before I’ve even finished my own sentence.