Only Human

20 Nov

I started this adventure with all of you with the resolve to not share my musings with anyone I actually know. I wanted to be honest. Honest without restraint or care for what other people thought. My mind is a sordid place and sometimes I feel that not everyone in my life would understand it. I can be a bitch. I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes I play games and those games don’t always end well for the other people involved. I don’t make apologies for the things I have done, but that doesn’t mean I want certain people to know about them.

I broke this promise to myself months ago when I accidentally allowed the Sloth to see the URL one drunken night. I think I was so carefree with this because I knew he was the one person that would not judge me for one single word I wrote. I actually in the end was thankful someone else’s eyes were on it that knows me. We have discussed a post or two here or there and I always appreciate an outsider’s perspective on my universe.

Recently, I made the executive decision to allow someone else I hold dear access to this world that is purely my creation. LP is someone I hold dear to my heart and also is someone who regards me as I am and loves me none the less. I would trust her with my life, but trusting her with this was a decision that was difficult.

The question I pose now is why?

I pride myself on being honest and open with almost everyone. I don’t shy away from confrontation or compromise who I am for what someone else wants me to be. But there is a difference between living a life of openness with the world around you when asked to proffer information, and openly offering every piece of information to the world around you.

It’s natural to shade pieces of yourself and what you know to be true. It feels too exposed, makes you too vulnerable not to hold certain things close to yourself. We need certain things to be only for us to satisfy our human nature. Fight or flight in a way. We were born with it and its there to protect us.

In starting this, I wanted it to be an exploration of being entirely vulnerable. Open to criticism. So why does it feel harder when people know who are actually in the story? I think the answer is obvious. The faceless and nameless is easier than dealing with any repercussions to be had from revelations that may not have been openly available in the moment.

Yet, I claim that I am open and honest, so really it shouldn’t matter.

There inlies the irony my friends, as well as the lesson. None of us are free of secrets. Its natural and not anything to be ashamed of in the least. We are only human after all.

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