I found this on a scrap of paper. I have no idea when I wrote it.
There’s a relationship between secrecy and shame. Somehow when I keep secrets, it puts me in touch with my shame. I suppose that’s why I keep secrets. But…
In the olden days, a night like this would have filled me with pride. Tonight I feel pride, But…
I also feel a vice-like grip on my chest as I contemplate having to lie, having to shade the truth.
The relationship between shame and secrecy is mutually reinforcing.
The secrecy itself constitutes the bulk of the shame.
Exquisite in the simplicity. I love this.