Burn

I found my first diary today in a box of old things
There were no pages inside, only a shell
I remember why:
Long ago,
Whenever I was sad, I wrote all about it in my secret diary
I read the words over and over
I shed a few tears for the hurt I was feeling
And then I tore the page, and threw it in a fire
I watched it burn
Then I moved on....

"How are you?"
There is a question in her eyes so I know what she is asking, without really asking.
I sip my cocktail slowly and pretend I heard nothing unusual as Lily plops her oversized purse on the extra seat at our lunch table and settles in. She is always late; always in a hurry, but always late. This is the first time she has seen me since The Breakup, and even though I have told her over and over that I am fine she still worries about me.

"I'm great. The question is, how are you?" I retort, "Why are you extra-frazzled today?"

But she doesn't buy it. In a few minutes we will be discussing It again. The Breakup. The shocking collapse of my last perfect relationship. I will mildly refuse to discuss it. She will push on anyway. She will tell me again how much of a loser he is and how I am so better off without him. She will ask me if I have spoken to him or seen him. I haven't. She will update me on his facebook and twitter updates since The Breakup and she will try to get me to guess what each mysterious word means. "Why is he pumped up about going to Elaine's? Is she his new girl?" I will smile and remind her "Elaine's is his favorite bar...." Then I will try to change the subject, but to no avail....

What my best friend is doing is not unusual or cruel. She genuinely cares and the more I evade her questions, the more frustrated she gets. The Breakup happened only 14 days ago, after a year of seeming bliss. Nobody saw it coming and no one was as surprised as I was. More importantly, no one can understand my calm reaction and my reluctance to speak about it. It is only normal to grieve and talk about it and lay it to rest. But what she does not realize is that, in those three days between the event and my telling her, I dealt with it. I thought about it, maybe cried about it, and now it's in my past. Now it is just another story, like a stranger's life that you ponder at dinner.

I am not bitter, or angry, maybe only a little sad. I am not suppressing my emotions, they have simply been dealt with. When I laugh loudly and say I am having a great time, I see her look closely, waiting to see my smile crack and the shadows come over my face, and I love her a little more. I wish I could tell her, my dear sweet Lily, I HAVE tried to tell her...

I wrote it down
I burned it up
I moved on


I like to tell myself that no one reads these pages

Tête à tête....(1)

Have you ever poured your heart out to someone and told them every little detail about what was on your mind? They were sympathetic, they listened to every word, and gave you the best advice ever. Maybe the person even told you one or two real-life stories about people who had a problem like you did and how it all worked out. They left you feeling better than you had in a long time but only when they are gone do you realize they never once said anything about themselves.....

That's me: The Non-discloser.
But I am not alone.

You meet people everyday who are really open and friendly and outgoing; only until you meet the carefully crafted wall they have built just beneath the surface to keep you out. Not just you, however, it keeps everyone out. And it's shocking. Most times they reached out to you first, they sparked up the conversation and made you comfortable, so comfortable that you found yourself telling them everything, more than you ever told anyone. But when you want to be there for them you don't even know how. You can never spot a crack in their perfectly happy demeanor and they just never seem to need you...or anyone else...

A friend of mine recently described me in these words and I was a little surprised. He was right, of course, but I did not think for a second that anyone could ever see me in that way. After all, I could even pass for a blabbermouth on a good day.... :)

So it's no longer a secret: I love my privacy. But it's not because I don't like people. I love people, I love having people around and talking to them and I love being that friend that people can talk to without fear of being judged or turned away. But when it comes to me, its harder to get me to open up. Beneath that carefree exterior there is a solid wall that gently keeps people out of personal stuff.  But I'm not really that sneaky person that protects their privacy with a Medusa skull on the front porch...

First of all, I have a blog that anyone in the entire world can read whenever they like. And most of the things I put up here are deeply personal, maybe a little more personal than anyone would normally tell strangers. Contradiction, right? Not the way I see it. I keep to myself not because I'm hiding anything, it's really just the way I am. I observe, I listen, I respond when spoken to and when needed. And when I have a problem, I find it much easier to solve it without having to go to the people who come to me. And on the rare occasions that I need to talk, I find that I am able to be completely honest about my feelings.

But that's enough about me for now. What's your unique 'social skill'?