The Lottery of Thought

The Gift of Sincere Communication

A sense of wonder follows me as I write. I’m on the MTR, heading home after work, wondering what thought will emerge from my mind today. It’s like watching a lottery on TV, waiting for the balls to drop—that same sense of anticipation. What thought will land?

Today, a lunch conversation with a friend touched upon an interesting theme: the human spirit’s fierce resistance to coercion. We instinctively rebel against being forced into a decision, even if it’s one we might have made freely. A feeling of discomfort instantly arises whenever we feel pressured to concede to someone else’s reality. I know this feeling well. I’ve felt the quiet annoyance of a pushed "yes," and I’ve also been the one doing the pushing.

I once developed genuine feelings for a man. Instead of simply telling him my feelings, I resorted to silly, stupid devices to coax him into asking me out. When that failed, my fear of rejection conjured an even worse plan: I would engineer a scenario where he couldn’t refuse under the guise of "friendship." My rationale was twisted—he might not want me as a romantic partner, but he couldn't possibly reject my offer of friendship, right?

It was insincere, dishonest, and stupid.

The plan backfired spectacularly. Probably to let me down gently, he offered a lame excuse and a hollow promise. Trust shattered, and we haven’t spoken since. I deleted his contact, not out of anger—I still look back fondly on our natural, unforced moments together—but because it was my first honest act after the whole charade. I refused to play pretend any longer. The ending was bad, but the happy times were real; the bad doesn't have to cancel out the good.

This memory contrasts sharply with another. Once, a man expressed with unshakable certainty in public that he liked me very much. At the time, his directness was so foreign that I felt confused. I wondered what he meant. Now I understand - it is a gift!

Liking someone is natural. It requires no immediate action, no forced outcome. The real courage—the most liberating and loving act—is to state that feeling as a simple matter of fact.

I should have just told that guy, “Hey, I really miss you. I’m coming to your city soon; let’s meet up,” and left it at that. It’s not about wishing for a different ending to our story, but for a version of myself who had the courage to be honest. I would have liked and respected her so much more.