but, you can keep a secret, right? so can i, bitches.
i remember before i started typing my thoughts onto this blog i said, "i don't blog because i'm afraid people will read it. i don't tweet because i'm afraid people won't." first it was a facebook status, then it was this:
so with that in mind, why was i afraid no one would read me on twitter? because weird feels more appropriate 140 characters at a time? no. because it's a social sharing engine. you want people to read you. you expect them to read you. so you tone the weird down.
and then somehow people started reading the blog. and it seemed no one was reading my tweets. so i was right.
and twitter became my safe place where i could say "penis" for no reason or share my political beliefs without the Facebook nazi's belittling them or even just put a "secret" out there into the ether if i needed to get it off my chest. until this happened:
and now, shit, you're reading it too. so now that my entire brain is consumed by this thing i can't tell, i feel like i can't say anything else. because you're listening. and i might slip up.
then i read about this guy:
i mean, what that guy did was wrong. he says he was trying to be a motivational inspiration. and to many he was. but he's also been accused of pretending to be that guy to get close online with pretty girls. and he was close online with a lot of pretty girls. (seems like a kinda fair accusation)
but that doesn't mean that i can't just take his lead and go be someone else, right? why couldn't i just go off and blog/tweet/book as " beyond bridgette" or "susie smiles" and spill my secret?
but, dammit. it's still not my secret to tell.
so you'll have to wait for new apartment photos, to know which kitchen island i chose, or for the "black steak chimichurri" "shit i'm making TONIGHT" pinterest post. because i'm currently consumed by this secret that isn't even mine.