secretly me

I am secretly depressed, secretly secretive, secretly withdrawn, secretly shut-in, secretly emotional...

I'm not looking for any relations beyond kissy-faced revolutionary friends, literary booze-hounds and other radical parents right now. I just got hurt and hurt badly and hurt someone I love and I'm not going to open up for anyone for a long, long time. I’ll be myself and that’s all I can promise to anyone, love me or leave me lost in my own dusty library.

Maybe I secretly loathe all women right now, I don't know, I know I secretly loathe myself. That's why I'm trying to remake myself. Although I alternate between wanting to be past and future selves, sometimes secretly wallowing in regret, despair, piss-poor attempts at change, motivation, inspiration, all with a secretive smile on my face.

Cyclical redundancy. Bullshit. I’m not going to grovel or apologize or explain myself unless I want to. If you have to ask you’re already wrong. I will help those who help me and focus on my life, which is my art. I am my own magnum opus and as much as I secretly wish I knew what was around the next corner I’m secretly glad I can’t see that far.