I have a secret. I’m not going to tell you what it is because… it’s a secret. But if you have been reading my blog, you probably have figured it out already.
I’m in love. But I’m not going to tell you who the person is because… it’s a secret. But if you have been reading my blog, you probably know already.
I’m ashamed. But I’m not going to tell you why because… it’s a secret. But if you have been reading my blog, you probably have an idea.
I’m not suggesting that you should read my blog. I don’t want anyone to read my blog because… it’s private. But if you have been reading it, no damage was done.
No reader really knows who I am. I have not given anyone I know access to my blog. I could be your neighbor. I could be a family member. I could be your spouse.
I have a few secrets. This blog is one of them. It’s my private world, where I come to play with my thoughts, my emotions and my desires. I play with people and I play with gods. I play with mortals and I play with immortals. I play with you.
I’m in love. But I’m not going to tell you who he is because… you don’t know her. Unless you know yourself. Then you know already.
I’m ashamed, because of my… exposure.
I don’t know if I shall ever be willing to give up this fear within. This fear of what would happen if they’d ever find out my secret.
Are secrets meant to remain hidden? Apparently not. Is this fear a friend, or is it an enemy? Does fear come to haunt me or is it there to protect me? I can’t tell you because I don’t know.
Meanwhile I will probably keep on writing, to relieve myself of this burden I carry. A secret burden which is, paradoxically, light. A load that opens up freedom within me.