Secrets

Two days in a row now (or nights, I guess they could be called), I have written pretty good pieces that would work rather well as blog posts. They were the right length, had a suitable quality of content, and would probably have made for pretty good reads, too. Interest certainly wasn't lacking from either of them, anyway.

And maybe that's precisely why I can't post them. Because they're interesting. Because they tell the real truth. Because they're full of exactly what is on my mind and exactly what I cannot admit to in my blog. That to me is one of the most frustrating occurrences possible. As a result of my unwillingness to post them, I have found myself searching for something else to write...but things like that are hard to come by, and oftentimes too weak and pathetic to make for anything worthwhile.

But I guess that while I'm at it, I'll include a sentence or two from each post, just for the hell of it, just because I want so badly to post them but know that I can't:

But the thought scares me. Or rather, not the thought--the reality.

I don't know why, I don't know how, but it happened.

I really wish I could post more than that. I really, really want to say more, but I know I can't. So I guess that I still have my secrets. I still have thoughts and feelings that I can't share, for whatever reason. Maybe it's wrong of me to say as much as I have about their existence, but I've tried denying it from myself, and I come back again to this...to these almost-posts, these complete truths, these pieces that I cannot release into the world.

And it sucks. I wish it was different. But I don't say these things not only because of myself, but also because of the others they may affect, because of the pain that they may cause, and the trouble they may foster in lives beside my own. So I'm sorry for only being able to say this much, but some things in my life cannot be shared. And those are, of course by force of irony, the ones most prevalent within my mind.