I’m a private person. I don’t mean the type of private where you keep to yourself and never let anyone know what you’re doing. I’m talking about the private where you don’t share your feelings, secrets, concerns, or let people in your life (the real life you live).
I can tell you about the time I went clubbing for the first time, got really drunk, made-out with a stranger in the cab, almost got roofied, had a panic attack, and arrived home around 5 in the morning. But it’s hard to tell you that I felt sad for being away from my family that I decided to drink in order to cope, but ended up drinking a bit too much. I’ts hard to tell you that I was scared of not fitting into the gay scene that I didn’t object when a guy came to me and kissed me. It’s especially hard to tell you how disappointed I felt at myself for letting all the bad things happen that I had to step outside to be alone, but I felt so overwhelmed and had my first panic attack. That’s too personal to tell.
I don’t mean to tell people the half-truth. I really don’t. I just don’t want people to judge the real me. If I tell you all about what goes on in my head or how I view the world, you’ll probably laugh. At times, I even laugh at myself for thinking the way I do. I once thought people in this world would not purposely want to harm me (emotionally or physically), but I was wrong. People lie and people have hurt me. I freak out and break down whenever that happens. I cry sometimes. I remember crying at night when I was alone in my room in San Francisco. I was crying so hard and loud that I had a hard time breathing, and I remember feeling exhausted after and fell asleep like a baby. I nearly freaked myself out. You’re probably right in assuming that I’m rambling, but I’m letting you in my head; the random part and the private part.
I hardly tell my family as much as I’m telling you today. They’re really private people. I can’t blame them. If you knew how much drama the family has gone through, you would want to keep private too. I tell my family that I’m going out with friends. I don’t tell them that I’m going to a gay club to drink, that my friends are gay, or that I’ll possibly hook up and sleep over at my “friends'” house. I don’t tell them how miserable I feel sometimes. I don’t tell them how unsure I am of my future or the random thoughts I have while I’m home. I don’t know why. I guess i’m just a really private person.