I’ve got a secret
I find myself at an odd place right now. I have no secrets anymore. Sure, there are lots of people who I keep various things from, but there are also a few people who know everything there is to know about me. There was a time when that would have made me feel complete, made me happy. I don’t feel that. In fact, I almost feel less complete than before. As silly as it may sound, I think I may have been using my secrets as a form of self-definition. What made me “me” were the things I kept to myself. Sharing them with someone was a very important thing, a great act of trust and love (or perceived love, anyway). Recently, as things have been revealed, it’s barely affected me. Not that I don’t love and/or trust the people who I’ve confided in; it’s just that I didn’t feel anything when it happened. No great release, no lifting burden. Nothing. I’m more confused than depressed about that. I know it all goes back to my current attempts to define myself in some way, but this is a new facet in my search. What happens when you have given away all of your secrets, when you’ve given away some of the most private things about yourself? Have you then given away a part of yourself as well? I’m terribly uncomfortable with that idea. I guess the full question I’m trying to ask is this:
If you’ve shared everything you know about yourself with others, then are you just made up of what others know about you? If that last bit of privacy is gone, where does that leave me?