I don't like secrets

This is why everybody knows me so well. I'm an open book, I have nothing to hide beyond the maybe 2 things I don't want people to know because they don't need to. I have a desperate need to tell everyone everything. This doesn't mean I can't keep a secret, because I'm not stupid. I know that telling other people's secrets hurts those people, and that they aren't my secrets to tell. Sometimes I need to be informed about what is and isn't a secret because I have the social intelligence of a potato (apparently), but I can keep a fucking secret

The problem is when I have a secret of my own that I can't tell because it will hurt other people. Those are the worst kinds of secrets to have to keep. And I know writing about it here is stupid, but this is how desperate I've gotten. I've tried everything to solve this problem. I don't know what else to do at this point. There isn't any solution in which nobody gets hurt, and it's all my fault.

Of course, it isn't a big deal. No one's going to DIE. It's not like that, it's just a stupid little thing that I have to keep to myself and a secret which I am kicking myself over. This shouldn't be a problem anymore. I don't understand why it is, and I don't understand how to solve it. No amount of my still-underdeveloped maturity and logic is going to help in this situation. There is no good answer. Worst of all, there is no answer in which I am the only one left dealing with the mess, because this is my fault, and I don't want anyone else to have to hurt for it.

Wow, doesn't that sound rich. Look how nice she is, she worries so much about other people. And it's true, and it's my worst quality, and I don't know how I exist at all because I exist in a state of constantly worrying about other people. Do you know how long it took for me not to freak out that something had happened to Ptarckas when he didn't get back to me when he said he would? A year. Honestly, it's so embarrassing. If I care about someone at all, I'll worry about them incessantly.

This came to a head in high school when mom caught me literally crying because my little sister had been crying in the car on the way home and there was no way for me to help her. She was lonely in high school and missed her middle school and all the friends she had there. Fast forward two years and she's fine, of course, having found her own friend group. I still have no idea how to be a good big sister to her, and I know that's my fault too, and I will never stop regretting that.

My mom caught me crying, anyway, and told me to stop worrying so much. She told me I couldn't solve everyone's problems for them, and I knew that, and it kills me. Which, again, sounds rich, like I'm trying to make myself sound better. But honestly, I worry too much. Way too much. It's ridiculous.

Not to mention I internalize everything. I have the social skills and intelligence of a potato, as I mentioned above. I'm no good with hints or vagueness or stupid, stupid flowery poetry language. I don't pick up on things like that. All my friends learn sooner or later that joking around with me is an exercise in exhaustion because I don't get anything. I never get anything, and it is something I an incredibly insecure about.

I don't know how to be normal. I never have. I've always been this bizarre little girl with a sense of humor that's never quite entirely on track who needs everyone to be overtly genuine and be explicitly clear when they're joking around (I can pick up on sarcasm when it's blatantly wrong) who is a bizarrely open book and has nothing to hide from anyone. My heart isn't just on my sleeve. It might as well be stapled onto my forehead for how mysterious I am.

None of this seems to matter because I still manage to stay friends with people, which some days feels like a miracle. Somehow, I always manage to stay on people's good side. I suppose that's because I've just decided to try and be the nicest person on the planet, so that even if people find me annoying and exhausting, they can't say I'm mean.


I don't really know where this is all coming from except that all my mental energy is being used on something colossally useless, and I had another fail-at-big-sister-ness moment tonight. I've really got to work on listening and not giving so much goddamn advice. As for the other problem, well, it's still my cross to bear. I'd drown my sorrows in alcohol if I wasn't so afraid that would let the secret out in the first place.

yer pal,
swegan