We all have secrets.
That’s an understatement.
I’ve read PostSecret for(what feels like)ever and though I may laugh at some of the secrets there, the truth is I feel sad for people more often than anything.
It shocks me, the weight of the secrets some of us carry around every day of our lives. I have secrets I’ve never told a soul and, most likely, never will. They’re too much for me to think about much without feeling sick to my stomach, let alone to share with and describe to another person. So I… don’t.
But my secrets are nothing in comparison to the pain and fear and sorrow and shame others live with.
And it hurts me that none of us feel we can talk about it unless we do so anonymously.
And it hurts me that this will probably never change.