secrets

I feel funny.

You know, when you have that feeling that things just aren’t right and nothing seems to work? I feel antsy, so I have a smoke, but that’s not really what I wanted, so I go online and post a Relationship Rx, and that’s not really working for me either because I don’t yet have any comments to respond to, so I call PVDD but he’s working and doesn’t answer his phone, and I go back online and I end up here:

Postsecret.com

And now I’m kinda sad. And thinking about what kind of secret I would anonymously put on a postcard that I’ve never, ever, ever told anyone ever.

Picture found here.

Picture found here.

Do I have any? You might think not, considering what a blabbermouth I am, but I do. Deep, dark, dirty, shameful secrets that I’ve never said to anyone, out loud, in print, not even in my diary (we all know how my LAST attempt at that ended up.)

I guess the way I look at myself is like, if I were to draw a picture of myself, most everything would be clear as glass with PUBLIC written across it…but then there would be a section, right around the middle, representing about 15% of my core being, colored opaque and marked with a big, fat, PRIVATE label. Things that only I know about, or someone who was there. Things that go on in my head, conversations I have with myself, things I say mentally that never make it past my lips (or keyboard, as the case may be).

Sometimes it’s depressing, like, if you don’t share ALL of yourself with someone, how can they really know you? Like, really really get who you are. But on the other hand, I don’t think I could take it. I don’t think I could take being with or around someone who knows every last dirty secret rattling around in my brain. Part of what makes me me is the part of my identity that I keep private. I kinda like it better that way, reading blogs is one thing, but people in real life who spill their guts to me, a relative stranger, is such an odd feeling, and honestly: I just don’t like it.

Blogging, for me, is such a contradiction. I have, let’s say, maybe three or four people in real life that I would say whatever’s on my mind to. My deep fears (not deepest), my worries, my insecurities, my flaws. And these three or four people are my intimates: I’ve known them for a while, and it took a while for me to get to the point where I’d even really discuss anything more meaningful than celebrity gossip or our friend’s relationships. Except with these people, I mostly keep my opinions to myself and keep my mouth shut (about important stuff – we all know that I’ll discuss almost anything unimportant when in full-on DMH mode).

But blogging? Suddenly I’m pouring my heart out, my opinions, my thoughts, my heartbreaks to a bunch of people, 95% of whom I’ve never met in real life, and 75% of whom never comment or say anything, so I guess I just assume they read, and take it in, but still…it’s an odd feeling, knowing that you’re putting things out there, and people read, and you may affect their day or their life and never even know anything about it. Or, they might see your name in their list of blogs posted and just skip right over it. You just never know.

Jeez, I’m in a wierd mood tonight. Nothing is working, I feel restless and bored but have no idea what to do to alleviate the boredom. Maybe I’ll just go sleep.

Bah.

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