Sometimes listening is enough

I have smart friends. And I love that they're smart.

The thing is, smart people not only listen when you talk to them, they respond. And being smart, they have comments and suggestions and ideas and they're eager to share them.

Most of the time, that's great. Most of the time, that's what you want. (Most of the time, that's what I want, anyway.)

Sometimes, though ... sometimes you just want to say something and not get feedback. You don't want analysis. You don't need analysis. You also don't need advice, or probing questions, or amusement, or horror, or really any reaction. You just want them to know something, something about yourself.

For instance, I'd love to tell a few of them that I have been getting way too involved reading a certain pop culture creation's fan fiction of late. In particular, I've gotten hung up on the more tragic stories, ones that revolve around the deaths of one or more of the main characters. I don't know why, though a few hypotheses are swirling around my head.

What I do know is, the emotion these stories are stirring up, while not "happiness", is not unwelcome. The stories are filling a need I didn't know I had. They're making me think about my life in ways I haven't before. (Perhaps I'm experiencing catharsis. I wouldn't know.)

Yet if I were to bring this up with my friends, they'd become concerned for me. They'd assume this minor obsession was a symptom of something worse. They'd feel it was incumbent on them to help, to analyze, to advise, to investigate further.

Maybe I'll want just those things, too, somewhere down the line.

But not right now.

Right now, I'd just like to be able to put the information out there, just so they know a little more about me, without them trying to solve me like a malfunctioning car.

Sometimes, I'd just like them to listen.