Tuesday October 21, 2003

I think I need a confessor.  But not a priest.  For some reason I have changed in a way that I only just noticed yesterday.  I used to keep things to myself (I think) and either really didn’t want to tell people or at least refrained from telling them.  Now, however, I can’t stand not telling *someone.*  Of course, it isn’t usually just anyone.  But I realized that I can’t keep it in.  I try so hard just to deal with things internally but I alwyas want outside input.  It is awful…some things I don’t want anyone to *know* but it still takes effort to prevent myself from telling them.  I am constantly squashing the impulse spill everything going on in my head to whichever friend is stopping by my room or talking to me on the phone.  Maybe I really do want people to know.  Or maybe I can’t figure things out and want advice.  Or maybe I just feel better when I “confess”?  I guess the fact that it feels like confessing, or sharing a secret says something about the kinds of things I’m dealing with.  If I thought there was nothing wrong then it wouldn’t be a problem to tell people, right?  So it is only when I have some feelings of guilt or insecurity or inner turmoil that it feels like “confession.”  At the same time, I always have to consider the fact that what feels “wrong” to me might not elicit the same response for another person.  So if I tell them and don’t phrase it as a confession, then maybe it is fine becaus…no, I’m justifying here and it won’t do.  I better stop.

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