unspoken

I feel like I’m never truly honest with people, and therefore I’m not honest with myself. There are lots of reasons why I think I need to hide different things from different people.

I don’t think I should tell my wife that I have doubts about our relationship. I shouldn’t tell her how unhappy I’ve been sometimes, or how I never feel good enough for her, or how I always felt like she didn’t encourage the kids to try harder in school or life. I can’t tell her how much I wish I could escape my life and run away by myself to a cabin in the woods in some far corner of the world. I definitely shouldn’t tell her how I once felt about another woman, and though our friendship crossed a boundary, we didn’t do anything physical … but I almost wish it would have happened. [And I shouldn’t tell the other woman that I’m glad I didn’t blow up my life for her.]

I shouldn’t tell my best friend from high school, who’s happily married, that I would have followed her anywhere if she had asked me to. I shouldn’t tell my kids how I feel about some of their choices, and that maybe they could have done more with their lives. I shouldn’t tell my sister-in-law that I used to fantasize about her. I shouldn’t tell my coworker that I’m actively trying to sabotage his projects (although it’s okay if he finds out I think he’s a slimy wankstick). I shouldn’t tell my supervisor that he’s a pompous, fucking know-it-all boy scout.

I don’t think I should mention the past crimes I may or may not have been responsible for. It wouldn’t be a good idea to explain my plans for when I’m done living. I probably won’t say anything about something I wish would happen that would benefit the world, but saying it out loud would definitely get me in prison, or at least on a watch list.

I shouldn’t write any stories or poems or song lyrics that focus on anything remotely close to my real life, because genuine thoughts and emotions need to be hidden away from real people. It wouldn’t be good to write erotic stories which are basically my fantasies involving real life people who weren’t really as sexually free as they are in my story.

I definitely shouldn’t tell any real life people about this blog.

I had a blog for a long time, back in the days when people could still read. I stopped blogging a year ago, but now suddenly I’ve decided to start over. Apparently I still feel a need to overshare, but anonymously and in my own understated way.

I have a lot of things on my mind, and the people I care about aren’t interested in hearing about it, so this will be my outlet. It’s mostly about my mental health and my processing of events from the past. It’s also about either confirming or challenging my perspectives about myself, other people, and the world in general.

Some of what I have to say is so intensely emotional that I’m afraid to say it out loud. I’m afraid of the consequences of being unfiltered. I could cause some damage with the things I want to tell people. I could inflict heartache and sadness on the people I love.

I want to be honest with myself and others, but sometimes the truth is too much for people, maybe including myself. I’ll leave these unspoken thoughts here for now.

Here there be monsters, no matter how much I pretend they’re not still there.