Okay, ask yourself this honestly: how many times have you written letters to people, carefully crafted letters of passionate intensity in which you try to get every word right, only to keep them to yourself rather than to deliver them?
If you haven’t done this, then you are a better person than I.
I do it all the time. And it has to stop. I’m not sure what this stoppage will look like. Perhaps I need to actually deliver them. Perhaps I need to stop writing them.
But the fact is that it is entirely counterproductive to spend so much time on communication that never occurs. People don’t know what you don’t tell them. But by having spent so much time on the writing, your subconscious can start to believe that you’ve told them, that it ought to be obvious, that it’s an established truth, that you’ve done your part. That’s a breeding ground for dishonesty and resentment.
Writing letters and not delivering them can become a disease. I have the disease. It is time for me to cure myself.