Secrets….

Postcard Secrets

None of these are mine. yet

Actually, I can’t think of many secrets that I haven’t told *anyone*

Of course, some of them have never been spoken, just written in very small handwriting on pieces of paper in my therapist’s office.

There is one that I have, that I should tell, but I can’t, because it’s too messed up. eheh.

I think I have so few secrets of my own because I can’t keep them in. They eat at me until I’m insane or wracked with guilt. I have secrets from other people that I’ve never told. I think it’s funny how well I keep other people’s secrets and how poorly I keep my own.

Even if I haven’t…like….directly *said* them, I’ve…conveyed them. heh. Probably most of them on here, or on my old FOD account.

Buss and I were sitting on the couch the other night just kind of….I dunno. Being silent in between snips of conversation. We started talking about suicide. Ways we wouldn’t do it and why. Like. No guns, too messy. Someone else would have to clean it up and that just wouldn’t be right. I think maybe that’s the only one we both really agreed on. Me mostly because I hate guns and they terrify me, her because the last person she knew to kill themselves used a gun.

I wondered, vaguely as we were discussing these things like we were merely chatting about the latest fashion trend or hot girl we fancied, if that was normal. As if we were chatting, not like we were discussing death.

On one hand…that’s good. I mean. It’s there, we might as well talk about it. On the other hand…it’s scary how easily the words slip out. How lightly we take it. Even tho I don’t think we take it lightly.

I wondered, do other people sit around and talk about these things? About how to gas yourself to death in a car when there’s no garage available. How you never could learn how to tie a noose properly. About your affinity for squirrelling away all the pretty pretty pills. Is that normal, to have these discussions routinely?

Maybe not normal. But probably therapeutic in some way.

And, I guess it’s different….when Buss and I talk about it, we do it lightly. When Homie and I talk about it…it’s different. It’s more serious? Perhaps because I don’t think if I were actually actively suicidal that I would be able to tell Buss. But I’d be able to tell Homie. (er…maybe.)

Heh. One of the last times we talked, we sat in Eat N Park and I randomly let her in on my…plan. I guess that’s a secret I’ve not told anyone but her, really. I manage to avoid it with J. (heh. Yeah, you learn a few things while working in a psych center. Like the fact that it’s as easy as 123 to committ you if you have a Plan. pltzzz.) (Tho, if there’s enough justifiable stuff and still no plan, they can still committ you.) Which, I don’t know why I’ve never told her since gawd knows she certainly must have way more than enough justifiable stuff. Here’s a secret- I honestly don’t know how I’ve not ended up in the psych center. There are times when I’m really not sure if I should be there or not. But. I dunno. J always asks if I think I need to be and I’m not sure I always give a straight answer, tho it’s generally closer to No than Yes. So I guess she trusts her instincts. And she’s always right. Of course. That’s part of why she’s right….she asks, and I suppose some part of me believes/knows that she trusts my answer. And so some other part of me can’t then, in good faith, go on and kill myself when she’s put her trust in me not to. And another secret? The fact that I’ve ever even put her, or anyone, in such a situation and more than ONCE even makes me feel kind of worthless and like less of a human being. How could I do that to someone? I’m ashamed of me

heh. Yeah. So essentially it boils down to the fact that I don’t committ suicide because I have too much of a guilty conscience?? *rolls eyes* What a dork.

Wow. I completely meant to just post the url and that’s all. Not go in to all that.

I should lay down for an hour before I have to be to work.