An Open Letter: I’m really sorry. I didn’t read that thing.

No one’s sent me anything with a wax seal, but I have to admit it would be pretty awesome.

Don’t take it personally, please. I know this sounds really bad. You went through and found the perfect Scripture and shared it with me right before Mother’s Day, or you paid the cost of shipping to send me a book you thought was really important and brought you great comfort when you were sad/depressed/angry/grieving/whatever.

I didn’t read them.

When you commented on my Facebook status with something really important and uplifting, it probably got buried under a mountain of prayers and I didn’t see it. Like, literally, hundreds of instances of the word “prayers” — sometimes with exclamation points, sometimes followed by a handful of emojis. I tried to keep up. Really, I did, but there were just so many.

My time is finite. My sadness is not.

I appreciate your thoughts, really, I do. Maybe someday I’ll be in a place where I can digest them adequately. Later still, I might actually take comfort from them.

This is not an indictment of you, or your beliefs, or the way in which you cope with things. What’s that saying? “We’re all fighting battles that other people don’t know about,” or something like that. Maybe I’m just in a place where I’m not quite ready to fight. Could be I just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s a real concern, you know. I think a lot of acidic things right now; things that would burn if I spat them out, or even whispered them.

As the great poet Jenny Lewis once sang, “There’s blood in my mouth, ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week.”

Anyway. I just wanted you to know that I treasure your friendship, even though I am not the easiest person with which to be friends at this present juncture. And while I may not be able to read your things, I appreciate your willingness to engage with mine.

I can’t promise I will revisit those things you shared with me, but I will definitely revisit constantly the very fact that you did share them. That’s the stuff of friendship, I think. The trying.

Because more than anything else, that’s the important part.