Alter Ego

Life is awkward and obligated; baffling yet boring. My family has been gaming online for years--they live in more interesting worlds, have groups of friends--while I wandered between empty rooms, peeked through curtained windows like Emily Dickinson.

I even quit writing, as my significant other is prone to find it, and then interrogate me on the validity of my thoughts and feelings. This site offers me a reason to start again.

While this is arguably less secure than a hidden journal (my wife can be quite the cyber-sleuth when she wants), there is something here which dares me--something paradoxical and inviting. In keeping EP secret, it serves as the hidden diary wherein I may write anything, be it hideous, beautiful, shocking, sappy, perverse, inspiring... I begin to remember someone I used to be.

At the same time, I know people are reading this. It stirs a deep, repressed exhibitionism within me. I fear what I may discover, what i may reveal. My pulse races; do i fear liberation? Humiliation?

But then, I remind myself, who really cares? This is just about my demons and me.
rattleschains rattleschains
41-45, M
Jan 22, 2013