PostSecret can also be eerily specific. For example, years ago in high school, I had a friend named Grace. She and I were close, but because I never came out to her, I always felt that wall of deception between us; I never could tell her why I didn't have a girlfriend and why I was not interesting in finding one (and she certainly asked). Somewhere inside, I had the vague notion that she was interested in me, that if I took some initiative, we could have dated, gone steady, became boyfriend and girlfriend, or whatever it is that teenagers call it these days.
When junior prom season came around, she asked if I would like to go with her. Play coy, she did not, and accept graciously, I could not. I flat out told her no, that I "don't do dances." In part, this was true, as I was one of those boys who stood awkwardly against a wall during the fast songs, and then swayed awkwardly in front of a girl during slow ones. I had no interest in participating in this awkwardness with a girl who had the possibility of a romantic notion toward me.
So that was that.
Months later, Grace was looking through my wallet where I kept pictures of people (you know, those little wallet-sized photos, the ones where friends would write sweet little notes on the back, "K.I.T." and all that), and what did she stumble upon but a big group picture with the words, "Moreau Catholic High School, Junior Prom 1997" emblazoned on the bottom corner like an incriminating fingerprint. And there I was, kneeling in my all-white tuxedo with tails (I know) with a girl standing behind me, her hand on my shoulder.
Oh, did I mention that I went to another school's junior prom? Yea, I forgot to tell Grace that as well. I only went because I had friends who went to that school, and I wanted the excuse to see them. Grace, as expected, did not accept this rationale, but instead treated it as evidence that I blatantly lied to her (which, really, I did) about not doing school dances. She did not speak to me for months, and even after that, she only did so to bring up how I dance-cheated on her, and what a jerk I was, and so on and on.
We, of course, got over that and patched things up. Now, we have become those friends who enjoy seeing each other when we do, which is once or twice a year, often less, but don't otherwise make an effort to keep in touch (or K.I.T., as it were).
A few years ago, I saw the following "secret" and subsequent response on PostSecret:
(Click to enlarge)
I took a picture of that screen and sent it to Grace, who swears that neither the postcard nor the response came from her. I believe her, I guess, but how many Austins could there be who have jilted a girl during high school prom season?
Well, at least two, apparently.
This morning, I checked PostSecret for its weekly update of postcards, and came across this one
and wondered if it was a sign. Lately, I have not felt the confidence I once did that I can, and will, fulfill my goal of a year. This blog has felt more like a burden than a privilege, more a yoke than a path to creativity.
At the very least, it seems I am not alone.
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