Even here I still feel watched, trapped. My secrets aren’t even so bad, but still I feel like I can’t confess them, to anyone or anything except paper which can be burned. The secrets I have aren’t so bad, but they’d be life altering nonetheless. In my mind they’re not worth sharing, even though they hurt me, just the weight of them hurts me and my ever day life. I can’t talk about them, so I resort to talking “about” them, and even then just to an online forum, where people may or may not see them, and where they definitely don’t care.
