May I have a word with you?

Some clothes just don't suit some people. The clothes may look good on the outside, and even be of the right size and cut, but once you try them on, you can tell something's wrong somewhere. They don't suit. They don't look good. They don't bring the true personality across.

Our words are clothes that our thoughts wear. And sometimes we end up dressing our thoughts in all the wrong clothes. Maybe because they look good, or look like they're of the right size and cut. We proudly put them on without realising how wrong they are. And we send these words out to others, who get a completely wrong message about what our thoughts were.

Words can hurt. They can pierce, they can stab, they can hurt real bad.

Technology has given us a wonderful tool called 'save draft'. I use it a lot. When crazy authors email me with even crazier stuff, I write my reply but save it as a draft for a couple of hours, before reading it again and sending it out. When I get what I think is a very rude sms, I key in my reply and save it in my outbox for a couple of minutes before I send it out. When I get a really random thought and I want to blog about it, I write the post and save it as a draft first.

Often, I delete many of these saved drafts because minutes, hours or days later, they don't seem to make sense. Sometimes, they sound totally different from what I intended to say in the first place. Perhaps it helps to read these saved drafts again later when you are in a different frame of mind. Often, I realise that I had dressed my thoughts in all the wrong clothes. If so, I promptly decide against sending the drafts and delete them. And as I delete them, I breathe a sigh of relief about not having sent them out.

Actually, the 'save draft' tool is not a mere technology boon. We have had it for years, in our own minds. The ability to think, save and process our thoughts in our own minds, before sending it out to others.

But sometimes, we don't pause to think, and we don't delete these drafts saved in our mobile phones, email boxes and minds. We end up sending the saved drafts that should have never left the boundaries of our mind, heart and lips. The words we wrote or spoke are misunderstood. Someone is hurt by them. Then words are sent back to us. Badly dressed again. And this time, we're hurt.

Is there a solution? What do we do if drafts that should have been deleted were sent out? Is all lost? Is everything over?

No.

Upon receiving them, those who truly love us will understand. And they will delete the drafts themselves and forget they were ever sent.

I have deleted yours.

Wouldn't you delete mine?