Every night I sit down, after watching television, and stare at my computer. Like, maybe, if I stare hard enough, it will talk to me. Then I won't feel so lonely. Maybe I will feel like I have a friend.
I spend time on Myspace, looking at pictures, at old friends. I search through pictures, thinking of good times, bad times. I stare into folders of pictures, stories, blog entries, likes and dislikes, of people I think I once knew, forever ago. I knew them in another lifetime. Now, I pretend I am still as cool as I used to be. I put a new picture of myself up that I think reflects me in some small way as the cool chick I was then. I don't want them to know that I am the frump-master. I like that about Myspace. You can hide behind funny pictures and witty statements, no one has to see the you that you really are.
Blogs are similar. I could hide my true self while I write. I could only tell the good stories, the funny anecdotes, if I wanted. I can post only great pictures of myself when my hair looks perfect. Do I do that? I don't think that I do. (Well, the great pictures of myself one, maybe.) I think I get fairly honest on here. I think I open up my heart and bare my soul. Not all of the time, but sometimes? Don't I?
Yet, I feel like I don't even know myself. I question the parts of me that I have always thought were truths. I look deep inside and see closed doors, dark corners and locked up spaces. Should I, do I dare to open them? What will I find inside? Should I keep them locked up so very tightly, at least until I am mentally prepared to see the blackness? If I opened them right now, how would that make me feel? Especially since my best friend isn't here to help me pick up the pieces if I shatter. I think maybe I am not ready to open those closets. Not yet.