Why I say 'it's fine' when it wasn't
Someone lets you down. 'It's fine, honestly' is out of your mouth before you've checked whether it was fine.
Someone shows up an hour late. Forgets the thing you told them twice. Cancels the morning of. And the words arrive before you do: it's fine, don't worry about it. You said it so fast you never got to look. Right after, there's even a small relief: the subject closes, the other person breathes, you move on. What gets me is the speed.
That sentence isn't about the thing. It's about them. You take care of their awkwardness before you take care of what you feel, and it works, nobody is uncomfortable. Except that by evening you're holding something too small to say out loud and too big to put down. And they will never know it mattered. Next time will be a little easier for them, and a little heavier for you.
Too small to say out loud, too big to put down.
I was wondering…
If you said it wasn't fine, just once, what are you afraid you'd find out about them?