Keeping my Secrets Public
I was thinking through what my first story should be on this platform, but I couldn’t figure out which should come first till the moment I am typing this.
We all know secrets are meant to be closed and not made public, after all they are secrets. Mine are secrets too, just that they have their vaults in the public space.
I grew up learning to find solace in my friends because it was not a tradition for me to share deepest things with any of my family members. Long before the days of social media, platforms that have now made it possible to keep friends who won’t care about how you are battling your demons, why? Humans on social media only react to what you let them see; and this is us (humans), we tend to put out the perfect things about us; I just go around my friends, asking them questions, hoping they would relate them with something deeper than the questions asked, all to no fruition. I guess I speak too much in parables than normal conversations.
I read somewhere on Twitter, I’ve forgotten if it was a tweet on my TL or a Retweet, but I saw something like “I am beginning to hate Instagram, happiness is too much on that platform". I resonated with the statement because I’ve always had the thoughts about this happening but, I’ve never thought of writing, tweeting than talk about it with friends in few discussions. Thoughts about how it is possible for people to be happy online and become incapable of a good life offline.
Sometimes last year, when I was wrestling with depression, that I started having suicidal thoughts at a point so, like I am fond of doing, I wrote a suicide note in form of a poem and published it on Facebook. Long story short, all I got back were praises that I crafted a nice piece of art. Shame. Shame on us humans for not being able to read beyond letter when we need to. I won’t blame it on anyone, since it is a habit for my generation to read/listen to reply and not comprehend.
There were days I would tell my friends the direct opposite of what I am going through, just to fulfill the part of counselling that says “speak up", but I knew I was lying to them. But they always want to hear that part of story of not giving up from me, probably because I have always wanted to be there for anyone I can be there for.
Sometimes, I come plain to them, hoping there could be some way out in their suggestions but all I get back are encouragements muffled from tormented minds; we are all the same, after all. Just that our battles are bigger than each other.
I am sure you are tired of reading thoughts that are not articulated. It’s just that I keep too much secrets with people, they don’t know they are secrets, so much that these secrets are becoming useless and coming back at me for God knows why.
Most of my secrets are promises made to myself and to people that are seeming hard to be fulfilled.
Do I need help?