So I decided to write a blog entry at midnight with my tablet. This should be fun.
Tonight I'm talking about secrets. We all have them, some for the better, some for the worse. But sometimes there are things that we carry with us through our day to day lives. They shape us, define us, and yet we don't reveal that about ourselves. I'm not referring to that secret that you sleep with a stuffed bear at night (I do, stuffed bears are cool), I'm referring to things that make you who you are as a person. Sorry stuffed bear, you just don't define me as a person.
There's a few obvious things that spring to most people's minds for such defining secret characteristics, but it's not always something to clear. There are a great multitude of things in this world that can define a person but they don't want to talk about. Maybe it's something innate to them, maybe it's a group they're part of. Maybe it's their personality, maybe it's their friends. Regardless, they have something core to them, that they won't talk about.
I come writing this as a hypocrite; I have far too many secrets for my own good. But while I rest on my isle of secrecy, I can see the downsides of such a lifestyle. Many hide their secrets because they fear society or their loved ones shunning them. I once knew a guy who was part of a gang and didn't want to tell his family. The dude wasn't a criminal, and he'd later leave that group to stay that way. But when he joined it wasn't for some self-serving motive, he wanted companionship, and he turned to people he could trust. People who made the wrong choices, but people who were still his friends. But in keeping that a secret from his family, he lived two lives, and that's never a good thing. He deceived those he loved and he deceived himself.
Now, as I stand from my position on the top of the mountain preaching, what of me? What of me and my secrets? Why am I on the internet, rambling away about secret aspects being bad while doing nothing myself? Perhaps because I am a coward. There's little point in beating around the bush, I just don't have the stomach to do it. And in doing so I justify others in their own fear. You lead by example, after all.
But look where that's gotten me. No where except a stress induced ulcer and a position of where I can't speak up, lest I risk a complete family collapse. So I put that off to another day, when I'm suppose to be stronger, smarter, better. Because cowardice and social strife is fun.
Moral of the story? Don't be a tool like Humva and actually fix your problems when they come up, not ten years later.