It’s like not being able to recognize what has existed in your dreams versus your daily reality. I can’t remember what I’ve told you and what has remained hidden. “If you’ve known me for any length of time then you’d know…” But would you? It’s a poor analogy, but I’ve been utilizing drafts more often on Twitter. Really that’s just a written form of what I’ve done with so many conversations in the past. All the possibilities play out, some for better and some for worse, before they are lost to my mental bin folder–only to be retrieved as a last resort on late nights mumbling to myself about possible worlds.
I feel guilty keeping these things for myself. Am I selfish? A hoarder of potential connections contemplated yet never seized. Or is it a good? In a world where identity is posted and public. Perhaps I am better off keeping some things safe and secret.