The Biggest Secrets are the Ones We Don't Keep


Last night I told my final story for storytelling class. It was a personal narrative, which may or may not have been a good idea (yet to be determined). It was about love, and tryst, and getting pulled for the first time. And everyone laughed at the right times, and everyone was sad at the right times, but it felt like I was reliving a high school weekend.

I think that what I didn't consider before was what it would be like sharing something so personal that I had not really shared with that many people before. I didn't think about the implications or exposing yourself to people. Not that it was bad, but I haven't felt that vulnerable in a while. It is a very funny story, and one that has a lot of heart and warmth in it, but it is also the story of a love gone terribly awry and mistakes that I made at 17 I don't think I would make now.

People enjoy my stories because they're so ridiculous. I have to say what's strange is how true they are. How I rarely have to exaggerate or embellish the facts. Last night I actually edited out parts of the story that I wasn't ready to deal with, even ten years removed. It was by far the most difficult of the stories I have told. I don't know where I got the courage to do it.

It also makes me think about what kind of person I was then, compared to who I am now. I wonder if I've even changed that much. I'm still most likely to get involved in ridiculous situations, still fairly narcissistic, and still just as emotional, though I'm better at hiding it now. I get involved in things I shouldn't be, and with people I should leave alone. I want everything to be good and right in my life even though I know that's not feasible or really desirable. I wish the story of my family were different. I wish there were things that happened in high school that I could change or take back.

But part of growing up is accepting the serenity prayer- that you can't undo what is done, you can just hope that the next time goes better. I hope that next time I make the right choices and feel good about myself the next day. I'm trying as hard as I know how not to screw up at this point and to follow the path I think I'm supposed to but it's not easy. Now I know why I'm back here, however. I had a small moment of clarity last night in which I realized that moving back was the right decision. No matter how much i miss NYC, without it I can see what I was using the city to hide. I was hiding things that I didn't want to deal with underneath skyscrapers and homeless people. I pretended everything was perfect when it wasn't. And I won't make that mistake again. Or maybe I will, and it will become another story.

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