Dear diarrry,


Melissa asked me something today.

She asked me how I know so much about her.

I didn't know what to say.

So I told her I pay attention.

That seemed to make her happy.

I don't think people mind being watched when they believe the person watching them cares.

At work, we have a few methods we use with subjects.

I won't write the names of them.

There is no reason to.

Some things should probably stay at work.

But there is one thing I wanted to try.

Statements.

We use them sometimes when we want a subject to tell us something without asking them directly.

You say something that sounds personal.

Something that could be true.

Then you wait.

People are strange.

They don't always tell you whether you're wrong.

Sometimes they explain why you're right.

So I tried it with Melissa.

I told her:

"You don't trust people easily."

She looked at me and said that wasn't true.

She trusts people.

Then she told me about the last three people she stopped talking to.

She told me why she stopped talking to them.

She told me what they did.

She told me how it made her feel.

I didn't ask anything.

I just listened.

So I tried again.

"You trust people when they prove that they deserve it."

She smiled.

She said:

"Exactly."

I wrote that one down.

Same person.

Same idea.

Different sentence.

I think that's important.

Then I tried another.

"You like being around people, but sometimes you need to be alone."

She laughed.

She said that was exactly her.

I almost laughed too.

Of course it was.

Who doesn't want to be alone sometimes?

But Melissa didn't hear it like that.

She heard it as me knowing something about her.

That was when I became interested.

So I kept going.

"You care about people more than you let them know."

She stopped eating.

She asked me how I knew.

I said I could tell.

She smiled.

Then she started telling me about her mother.

I didn't know about her mother.

Now I do.

I tried another.

"Sometimes you pretend something doesn't bother you because you don't want people to know that it does."

She went quiet.

Then she told me about a man she used to know.

I had never heard of him before.

Now I know his name.

I know where he worked.

I know why she hated him.

I know why she still thinks about him.

All from one sentence.

I think I understand something now.

The statement doesn't have to be true.

It only has to feel like it could be true.

The person hearing it does the rest.

That is what we learned from the subjects.

I always thought it was because subjects were different.

Maybe they aren't.

Maybe people are people.

I tried something more difficult.

I told Melissa:

"You don't like hurting people, but sometimes you become angry enough that you imagine what you would do if someone pushed you too far."

She stared at me.

Then she asked:

"Do I really seem like that?"

I told her no.

She seemed relieved.

Then she started explaining why she would never hurt anyone.

She talked for almost ten minutes.

I didn't interrupt her once.

It was fascinating.

She wasn't answering me anymore.

She was answering herself.

I think that might be the trick.

You give someone a door.

They decide what's behind it.

Sometimes they even build the room themselves.

I tried one last statement before we left.

"You want people to understand you, but you're afraid they might understand you too well."

Melissa didn't laugh this time.

She just looked at me.

Then she asked:

"Do you understand me?"

I said yes.

She smiled.

She held my hand.

I felt bad.

Not because I lied.

I don't think I lied.

I understand her now.

Just not because I'm good at understanding people.

She taught me.

She doesn't know that.

I think that is the most interesting part.

Tomorrow I want to try something else.

Something about jealousy.

Dave has been spending more time around her lately.

I wonder what she would say if I told her:

"Sometimes you mistake attention for affection."

Maybe she will tell me I'm wrong.

Maybe she'll tell me who she thinks actually loves her.

Maybe she'll tell me about Dave.

Maybe she'll tell me about me.

I should stop writing.

It's late.

Melissa just sent me a message.

She said she has something important to tell me tomorrow.

I wonder what it is.

Goodnight, Diary.

I think the experiment is working.