But I'm busy. I forget things. And one of the big things I forgot in relation to Post Secret. was that I actually submitted several secrets of my own to the project back in 2006. This completely slipped my mind for over a year, until a few weeks ago when I was at a friend's baby shower and saw a copy of the latest Post Secret book, A Lifetime of Secrets, on the host's shelf. And guess what was in it?
Well, one of my secrets, anyway. I sent about four, and the truth is, I only have a vague recollection of exactly what I wrote, but I remember the styling, the gist of things, and how I was feeling at the time (terrible, truly) and the fact that I went all out in some respects and really unburdened myself. I also TRIED to get published, so I crafted my secrets carefully, and some of them were pretty ... contrived. In a bad way.
I cannot, of course, tell you which of the secrets in A Lifetime of Secrets is mine, but I can tell you this: Frank chose the best one. The one that was the least contrived and the most true and ultimately, the most me. Which makes me think he's better at his job than I initially gave him credit for. Stupid me. I am so full of myself sometimes.
Anyway, it gave me a thrill. Seeing my little secret printed for the world to see in the book. It's nothing amazing. Nothing truly shocking. Just something small and sad and true written in a moment when I was feeling small and sad and true. And I'm glad. I'm glad I made it into the book. Even if I can't (won't?) tell you which one it was.
The thing about secrets is this: if something is really secret, (really, truly, fundamentally secret) you can't tell anyone about it. Not even one person. You have to keep it to yourself. I know that, and have many many little things that I've never spoken of as a result. It's hard sometimes. To hold onto things like that. When you really can't share things, you sort of have to put them out of your mind entirely to deal with them. Except with Post Secret, you don't. With Post Secret, you can tell everybody and nobody at the same time.
It feels good. Really good. I feel good.
I love December this year.
Your secret spilling blah-og friend,