My blog can be described as an open secret, I don’t spend time advertising it to friends and family, but many know about it. I write about anything and everything and try not to censor myself. If the thoughts are in my head they are fair game for expression here.
Yet, there are some things that I do not discuss here. It would be fair to characterize me as someone with secrets. Yes, I can and do have a big mouth, but I know how to keep a secret and I do it well.
But typically the things that are not discussed here are of such a personal nature that they hurt me. I am not afraid to think about things/experiences/places/people that hurt me before or may even still hurt me, but I am not always comfortable nor able to share these experiences with all of you.
In large part because of the people that know I am. It may seem kind of strange that people I consider myself close to are unaware of these things, but I think that everyone needs to have a piece of themselves that belongs solely to themselves. One of my ex-girlfriends said that I carry a sadness about myself that she didn’t understand.
I go back and forth on whether I agree with that, but I suspect that what she felt was that part of me that is closed off to the outside world. The more progressive men here will understand how that can make women crazy. If you are in a relationship and you shut part of yourself off or keep it tucked away you can expect a problem.
Returning to the topic of the post, I truly forget sometimes that there are people who know me. The anonymity of typing behind a keyboard makes it easy to pull out the wool from ears, to uncork the memory banks and spew out some words about my thoughts and feelings.
In short, I am just a big contradiction.
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