Truth
So I normally don't write in here. No crap. I know everyone knows that. I have another blog. One that is neglected, true, but it exists. The thing is... well, there are several things. THere are things I want to write about, but not sure I'm ready to share with my "law school" friends. For a lot of different reasons. The first of many is that there are certain parts of my life I like to keep separate. Again, for a lot of reasons. THe least of which is that I don't want my personal life to affect my professional life as an attorney. I don't want to post something out there for my colleagues to read- to judge me- to make assumptions about the kind of person I am, or at least the kind of person they think I might be. Because I'm not so one dimensional that if you know a single issue in my life, the issue that invades my mind more than I care to admit, even to myself- I'm not so one dimensional that it defines who I am.
I worry about judgment. I know I shouldn't and I get told that everyday. "Who cares what they think?" I do.n't. I don't know if I do. I want to be honest. Tell my story. Be myself, but instead I find myself making excuses. Unnecessary. Ridiculous. Excuses. They sound fake in my head and even more unconvincing on my tongue. I spit them out like fire, hoping they'll stick to what they land on, burn into the brain of the people I'm with before they have time to consider the evidence.
I worry about myself. I worry that I'll let too loose. I worry I'll trust someone too much. Tell the wrong person the wrong thing and then bam. It's out there. I'll be left trying to gather it all in, like oil. The more I grab, the more it gets spread around and no matter how hard I try to clean it up, there's always a trace. A thin, slick layer of truth that can never be wiped clean.
At this point there's no real reason I couldn't write this in my regular blog, I suppose. Except people talk. People read and then people talk. Am I coward to not want to deal with the talk? I don't know. Mayhaps. Am I more comfortable this way? Completely.
It can only last so long anyway. Real truth- the kind that seeps from your pores- it comes out and as much as you might want to hide it, it's there, whether you like it or not. The real question is- will I be ready when it escapes?
I worry about judgment. I know I shouldn't and I get told that everyday. "Who cares what they think?" I do.n't. I don't know if I do. I want to be honest. Tell my story. Be myself, but instead I find myself making excuses. Unnecessary. Ridiculous. Excuses. They sound fake in my head and even more unconvincing on my tongue. I spit them out like fire, hoping they'll stick to what they land on, burn into the brain of the people I'm with before they have time to consider the evidence.
I worry about myself. I worry that I'll let too loose. I worry I'll trust someone too much. Tell the wrong person the wrong thing and then bam. It's out there. I'll be left trying to gather it all in, like oil. The more I grab, the more it gets spread around and no matter how hard I try to clean it up, there's always a trace. A thin, slick layer of truth that can never be wiped clean.
At this point there's no real reason I couldn't write this in my regular blog, I suppose. Except people talk. People read and then people talk. Am I coward to not want to deal with the talk? I don't know. Mayhaps. Am I more comfortable this way? Completely.
It can only last so long anyway. Real truth- the kind that seeps from your pores- it comes out and as much as you might want to hide it, it's there, whether you like it or not. The real question is- will I be ready when it escapes?