I sat there: typing and deleting, typing and deleting.
I wanted to post a window into my soul, but every word on the screen felt like a lie—too shiny, too contrived. The more I thought about what to say, the more artificial it all sounded, so I just quit and never posted a thing.
I do this all the time. I try to be raw and honest, but I can’t.
We don’t know what goes on behind the closed doors of someone’s mind. We think we do. We sit and have lunch with people. We chit chat. We read what they post; we watch and we listen. We delve into seeming depth with friends and partners, but even there, complete transparency doesn’t exist...