The other night Isabella told me to tell her a secret. I almost wanted to get my laptop, pull up my blog, and say 'read'.
I don't have many secrets that I can keep. I can keep other people's secrets pretty well. My own, not so much. I don't see the point.
I have a vivid memory of this conversation in third grade
Me: *says something to myself*
3rd grade crush: Are you talking to yourself?
Me: ...... yes....
3rd grade crush: *gives me a really weird look*
Me: *turns approximately the color of a tomato*
Secret of the day: I talk to myself all the time.
It was at that point I realized it probably wasn't normal to talk to myself, and should try to keep it to a minimum. It's really hard though.
It's that impulse to write. To document. To remember. I remember things better if I can say them out loud. Speaking, writing, it assigns a certain chronology to things that could have bounced around in my mind, orderless, for days.
Clara
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