I have been addressing this theme in a lot of online conversations I've had lately.
I need secrets. It is not that I lie to people, I simply do not tell them. If I go on a date with Jamie, am I lying by not telling her about my ex girlfriend or my mental illness, or the fact that I masturbated to gay porn once (in a while)? No. I'm not lying, I'm just hiding things. I suppose not all things need to be said.
Every time I go home on a certain road, I pass a house that is numbered the same passage as a paragraph in Herodotus that shows a proof about how the economic classes were classified in athenian greece. I remembered that because I had a classics lesson one day and on the bus home I saw that number that reminded me of the passage. It eternally stays in my head. I can't even remember the Herodotus passage, just that I made that association.
I was once completely powerless. I was powerless because people knew everything. I never recovered from that time.
The only way in my head to be free, and to escape that feeling of violation, is to hide. It is to make sure no one can ever see all of me, every aspect of me as a person. I suppose that was why I was scared on the date because when Jamie looked into my eyes I was scared that she would see too much.
I want to purge as a secret, because having that secret gives me power. On the other hand part of me wants to be found out. Some secrets, like my pain, I want people to see in me. I want them to see it in me so that maybe they can save me. That's depressive thinking. I dont usually think such thoughts as often these days.
I like secrets because it helps me recognise the complexity of my mind, it also helps me compartmentalise aspects of me, so that they stay alive.
I need secrets. It is not that I lie to people, I simply do not tell them. If I go on a date with Jamie, am I lying by not telling her about my ex girlfriend or my mental illness, or the fact that I masturbated to gay porn once (in a while)? No. I'm not lying, I'm just hiding things. I suppose not all things need to be said.
Every time I go home on a certain road, I pass a house that is numbered the same passage as a paragraph in Herodotus that shows a proof about how the economic classes were classified in athenian greece. I remembered that because I had a classics lesson one day and on the bus home I saw that number that reminded me of the passage. It eternally stays in my head. I can't even remember the Herodotus passage, just that I made that association.
I was once completely powerless. I was powerless because people knew everything. I never recovered from that time.
The only way in my head to be free, and to escape that feeling of violation, is to hide. It is to make sure no one can ever see all of me, every aspect of me as a person. I suppose that was why I was scared on the date because when Jamie looked into my eyes I was scared that she would see too much.
I want to purge as a secret, because having that secret gives me power. On the other hand part of me wants to be found out. Some secrets, like my pain, I want people to see in me. I want them to see it in me so that maybe they can save me. That's depressive thinking. I dont usually think such thoughts as often these days.
I like secrets because it helps me recognise the complexity of my mind, it also helps me compartmentalise aspects of me, so that they stay alive.
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