Pogue,

Please don’t tell me your secrets or if you do, then when you put them back in the drawer don’t lock it anymore.

I am just no good with secrets. I can’t keep secrets. It’s not that I find delight in telling others and making those hidden things public. Not at all. Not one bit. No. Often, even though I will appear interested in what you have been hiding away I am only feigning interest. I mean, if it’s important to you, important enough for you to have to closet it in some secret place, the least I can do is appear interested.

Secrets are a burden to me because I can’t find the capacity to place them in some secure place in my mind where they are only brought forth with a particularly focused effort. Like I have to go and fetch the key which itself is hidden and then unlock the drawer. No, for me, what I am told eventually becomes part of the general information rolling around my thoughts. Oh yes, I might be able to seclude those details for a while while I remained focused on doing so, but then more things will fill my head and I lose focus.

Maybe I just consume too much information. Learning is a passion of mine. Someone once told me I should have remained in academia and spent a life learning. That would have been something. But here I am and there is learning to be had in life everyday so, go boldly.

It’s just your secret becomes meshed in with all else and in a moment of insight, or in a conversation about something, as I speak out, if there are shreds of your secret caught in the current subject I might make reference without any intent to violate your confidence. And the more time that has passed since the original telling the more it will have found its way into other stories I have consumed and be less remembered as a thing to be hidden.

I suppose I could create some form of aide memoire, a mental prompt to keep me on track but then, life would become decorated by prompts! People seem to love to tell me their stuff! Am I a good listener?

So here it is. Tell me what you like. There will be no judgement here. Think what you want. Live the life that pleases you, be it far removed from mine and there will no judgement (that said I am disturbed by all forms of abuse so I’m not sure what I’d do with that…maybe I do have room for judgement. Goodness a new discovery!). But for the most part I’m thinking “it takes every kinda people”. If that’s what rocks your boat and you are abusing no one else whilst doing it, go fill your boots!

But do not have an expectation that I will file that information away. OK, so you need to unburden yourself. To find the relief of confession. That’s great but don’t unburden yourself here if you are just passing me your burden. I don’t want it! I can offer no guarantees as to what I’ll do with it and when.

And, by-the-way, when you give me that thing you couldn’t keep hidden away, that you needed to speak out, think, are you being a little unfair asking me to do what you couldn’t. No, “Oh but I trusted you”. Understand, I cannot and do not want to be trusted in this thing!

I can promise not to use it to deliberately harm you or do you wrong but be aware it will mix into the mass of information I carry around and risks the chance of coming out one day as part of a completely unrelated topic. There I am discussing world politics and your secret fantasy finds itself a part of the discussion on Ukraine. No, No, NO!

Am I establishing a new basis for my relationship with people I know. Do I need a tee shirt, like, “I can’t keep secrets. I give away kindness and other peoples secrets. Share carefully”. Maybe I’m broken. But let people be aware and they will not have an expectation that just may never be fulfilled.

You’re on notice.

Yours, feeling vindicated,

Wic