"What's the Matter?"

What a horrible question. I don't know why I loath it so much. It's simple, sweet, inquisitive. It's reaching out because they recognize unhappiness.
And yet, every time it's asked, "What's the matter?" my defenses shoot up.
"Nothing." Because with the "what", I suddenly feel like YOU don't deserve to know. Or that you should already know. Read my mind. Remember things I've said. Read my body language. Anything to make me seem less mysterious to you. Anything you can do, do it, so that I don't have to spell out all of those insecure details about myself.
Is it the what, though?
Maybe it's the "Matter". Instead of "what" it turns into "why?". "Why does it matter?" Because mattering is a big thing. Things that matter are heavy, large, hard to carry. When something matters, it becomes a burden. And once you share it, now you both must carry it together. And who wants that? Why would you ask for part of the matter?
I wish it wasn't so hard to be open and honest and helpful. But especially when you're down... matters too heavy to bear by yourself, split and double and jumble up and collide and take on more and more mass when you try to share it with some one else. Or at least it feels that way.
Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe it feels so big and important when it's weighing down on your brain, but as soon as you let it escape, it floats away... as light and as flighty as a ladybug.
Because the only thing worse than your problems being too heavy to carry... is that they are vapid and silly things that you've blown way out of proportion.
Because mattering... matters. And you don't want to disappoint. You don't want to answer and have the other person be disappointed by the sheer amount of overuse the word MATTER gets...
"What is the matter?"
I don't know. Because I don't know if it matters enough to share. Because I don't know if it's too much matter for you to carry. I don't know if it will continue to matter as soon as I say it. Because what if I honestly just... don't know. What if the matter is just that I am alive.
Living means being disappointed and hurting and stirring the dramatic pot of relationship and sometimes it gets me down, and all the swirling goo of good and bad and ups and down compress into one big giant ball of matter and it all seems so so so important...
Until it doesn't anymore.
But the most wonderful part about life?
There are will always be someone to ask the question. And for all the hard feelings... for all the over thinking and over analyzing and the burdens of the world... when someone asks you, you know, deep in your heart, past all the petty stuff... that that means they care. About you. And that is pretty neat.
The human capacity to take on all the ordinary stuff you as an individual have to carry and extend to another person to recognize that they are traveling a similar path as you... is incredible. To give up selfishness and pride for just a moment and think to ask the simple question... "What's the matter? What matters to you? What can I do to help... What is going on in your life?"
And I think it's so so so important that we learn to accept the help, and just tell them...
"I'm having a hard time."