I give you who I am in secret.
"Everybody has a secret garden," says a fourth. "We each appear as an image. If I revealed myself as I am, no one would believe me. So I keep my thoughts to myself. I don't want to give my key away."
(from An Intimate History of Humanity)
I first read this around 6 years ago. I don't remember anything else about the book. I didn't even finish it, but I've read this passage to myself so many times that it's embedded in my brain. Sometimes I think I repeat it to myself every day, but then I think that it can't be that often. This passage serves as armour to me in a way that's probably completely obvious but which I haven't yet quite unraveled for myself. I think my secret garden is guarded by a series of gates, each gate standing farther from the garden than the last. As far back as I can remember I've protected my privacy fiercely, only letting people approach a certain point - even the people I love who I know are in my life by choice forever. But then, I keep some secrets so close I can't even write about them in my diary. It's not that they're so shocking or shameful. I think it's because they're mine alone.
Today I followed a link from someone's Live Journal to Post Secret (http://postsecret.blogspot.com/Secret ). Innermost secrets made public art. Nearly all of the comments on the site say that the secrets are so real - funny and sad and brave. I think Post Secret will become an addiction for me.