I am a secret

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Something occurred to me about 10 minutes ago while commenting to a couple of people. Like one of those times where you smack yourself on the forehead and a light comes on kind of thought.

I am a secret.

The things I write about here at this journal for the most part have never been shared with anyone but for Patrick. I have never really been much of a talker although people reading this probably roll their eyes and say 'yeah, whatever'. But it is true. I have always been an observer.

Pat likes to talk, he loooooves to talk in fact. And he is a great story teller. I love how he tells stories because he makes people laugh. He makes me laugh. I will start the story but make him finish because I can't get the effect that I'm looking for, laughter. Oh, I have tried but it is drab and boring and I end up deflated because I wish I could've added this to it or that but didn't think to until it was to late. I'm just never satisfied with the results that I get.

I am much more animated on paper or in writing, or at least I think I am. Maybe not. Well, anyway, I have had people tell me that they believe I am an abused wife because I don't talk much. Boy, what a stereotypical thing to think.

When I look into the window of my childhood, I see a little girl with long hair, sitting in a corner with my knees pulled tightly up against my chest staring wide eyed at the events that shaped who I am today. A little girl deep in thought picking apart every word, every movement, every look, piece by piece and creating a whole new world. The world that I now live in, the life that I now have and the life that I really love.

I have slammed the door on my family, and on my friends. Mainly because of how when you confide in someone, "they told two friends, and they told two friends and so on and so on...." and by the time it would reach my ears again, well, I had practically murdered someone or something. Rumors. Evil things. And I too am just as guilty of that vicious cycle, don't get me wrong, I am not putting myself on a pedestal, just putting myself where I feel the safest now. Although telling the world about my life isn't exactly a safe bet is it.

I have a trusting heart. I love hard, and don't like to allow the faults of others to alter my views of them as we all have faults. I look at the whole person. I am all about second chances, third chances, 50 chances. However, I never forget. It all goes in my memory banks.

I have been told that I have very high expectations of people. Yes, this is probably true, very true in fact. I am a loyal, trustworthy person. I don't lie because I simply just cannot do it, and I will be your friend forever no matter how many times you squash my heart. I only expect out of people what I put into it and that is all of me. I guess that is a high expectation but in thinking about it, true friends and true brothers and sisters are what I am rewarded with. Kind of like eating popcorn, you eat the popped stuff but the old maids break your teeth teaching you that it's pretty stupid to eat them. (although I still eat the partially popped ones, they made an effort.)

There are exceptions to this...the guy yesterday who I will accuse of 'defamation', a close relative of mine whom has marred Pat's name in my family as well as mine, and of course a particular social worker and the cops that accompanied her.

Very few people have altered that view that I created as a little girl. To love is a wonderful thing. To be a friend is good for another. To forgive is something that I do but not completely...I remain on alert. It is my way of watching out for what's inside of me. The secret of who I am.

Welcome to my world.

Written by louie0768 .