Monday, December 22, 2014

dear post secret: when i listen to music i imagine i'm the lead musician, or involved in the production somehow. i've imagined myself performing on award shows countless times. i don't even watch award shows.

dear post secret: i say the most expensive thing i've ever stolen was ninety dollars. lie. it was seventy-five.

dear post secret: i say i've never cheated on a boyfriend before. this is bull. i felt very alone in one relationship, and wound up seducing guys who i did not care for, committing a single act with them on the impulsive-whim, and would pretend it never happened, never talking to them ever again, and talking badly about them otherwise. these things did happen.
what's more upsetting to me is not the people whose feelings i probably hurt, but being a complete hypocrite.

dear post secret: i got involved with that one boyfriend when i was in the middle of a "relationship", or whatever that was. i say it's morally okay because the guy i was already involved with had disappeared on a crack binge and it was all a total joke anyway. it was all indeed a total joke and i felt freed and happy when i dumped him harshly via voicemail, but the crack binge is only something i strongly believe. there's no evidence to it happening.

dear post secret: both of those boyfriends i met in psych wards.

dear post secret: i worry i plagiarize everyone.

dear post secret: i believe typing a lot doesn't make me the type of writer i could ever respect.

dear post secret: i find david foster wallace assy and smug.

dear post secret: i remember so many things that are probably very insignificant that have hurt me. i carry the burden because i know the only reason they've hurt is because i'm so unbearably sensitive.

dear post secret: i consider myself very much so in touch with my inner genius, and respectful of it.