Circumspect sentimentality

I suppose it's good to know what people think of you. It helps you to understand how you come across. You can decide if you want to react to it. Or not. But even having a vision of other people's view is some form of self realization.

I'm fortunate to know there are some people who like me. They find me engaging, gregarious and adventurous.

I realize there are some people who do not like me. They find me blunt, even rude. They consider me overbearing and demanding.

Within both groups are people who believe I'm a bad boy, a rounder, a player. Whether they find that good or bad is in their own set of priorities.

The fact there is that division somehow pleases me. I suppose I think it makes me well rounded, real.

There are people in both groups who consider me a loner and moody. There are those I frustrate by their feeling I'm guarded, keeping a careful wall up to shield some parts.

I wouldn't argue with anyone who holds any of the aforementioned opinions. From my own internal viewpoint, I completely agree with them all. In fact, although I work to create a me I will like, there are times I do not.

There's also something else I've been thinking over for quite some time. There's something only a few people who have ever encountered me would place as a label. But it's a gigantic part. I am very sentimental.

It is reserved for those who have at some time shown me a little of their heart. To me, that's the ultimate trust. Even if they withdraw it at some time, I remember that glimpse and retain it in a special place.

For those who have ever given me a peek and those who still do display that trust, I've noticed a trend. My expression of that sentimentality makes them uncomfortable.

I used to believe that it was important for me to make such expressions, that others' discomfort was something which could be overcome and they come to accept my feeling. But it has simply never proven true. So, I've become circumspect.

This review comes on the heels of my finding a need for a minor expression of the sentimentality I carry for two women. I've been as close as you can to the two at one point, although the connection has frayed greatly. But I had cause to drop each a note, and within it I simply stated "I sometimes miss you."

One dismissed it as quickly as possible. The other, whom I believe has gone through quite a emotional growing spurt in the last year, accepted the feeling with grace.

I can easily play the character that is the image almost all see and upon which they make their opinions of me. It gives them comfort and a sense of consistency, fulfills expectations. Inside of that character the sentimentality can grow for people I encounter. But these days whether they know of it depends on how I see them look at me.

And my own simple bravery or cowardice.