The Hidden Things

It's something that people often feel frustrated about in friendships -- not knowing everything. If you're close to someone, you want to know all that you can know about them. Some people are willing to share more, some less, and even fewer share everything.

Lately, this has been my thoughts. The struggles of my friends (and other things) aren't always unknown to me, but even the things I know, I know in silence. It's the overheard phone call, the randomly spied facebook message, the text in which some past event is referenced and you go "oh really? When did that happen?" It just goes on and on and on. Roommates, friends in various places and stages in their lives, family and so on. All of them are going on about their lives and from that I hear very little if anything.

I suppose that is the course of life. Instead of being annoyed about that path today, I'm going to stroll down it a little. People have lives and they live them quite independently of me. There's no reason for me to be upset about that nor is there a reason for me to, even on a surface level, require in any way to be informed of what activity or activities that might include at any time. That is the sobering bottom line. At the same time, it is (and moving toward was) my thought that, with a relationship labeled as "friend" or "brother" and so on, I would:

1. be a bit more privy than others to having knowledge of those things
2. be a part of shaping those things for the better

I can't really do that in a vacuum, but maybe that vacuum is chosen for me. It could be for any reason, really:

• it was forgotten
• it is better unmentioned
• it is more personal than sharing allows
• i'm just not as close to this person as i thought

Any of those are fine, but then I think about places like this journal. This journal has everything in it. Everything. There's very little if anything I hide from writing in this journal and, in fact, only one thing I can recall and even that was mentioned in passing. According to my counter on the dashboard page, there are 20 people that read this information.

Twenty. From those twenty people, nothing is hidden. However, I am only one and much is hidden from me being only one.

Maybe it's a thing of bravery to bare yourself in this way; many people that have gone before have said as much. Of all the things I can say or that could be said, one thought rises to the top: maybe I should have my own hidden things. Maybe just more of them. Sometimes, in my effort to connect to people, I forget the beauty of having a world that others aren't privy to. Maybe, after a month, I'm starting to remember.

I suppose I'll go back to work for now and think about this so some more.