Inside Out

I like to keep things inside.

Oh, no, don't get me wrong. I have raging fits of temper. I have moments when I spill all, as coherently as it appears to me at the time, with furious, brazen words. There are times when I suddenly have the urge to be honest, to tell the truth as I see it.

But most of the time, I keep it inside.

Part of it is that I have no one to talk to. Not out of want of trustworthy people, but rather that they seem to have problems of their own or, as the case may be, they more readily part with their problems than I do. Being selfish under such circumstances would be wrong, and perhaps pointless as well. If someone badly wants to unload their secrets, they would not pay a great deal of attention to another person's issues.

So I keep it all inside.

It works, I suppose. I've gotten good at talking out the truth with myself. And when the cause is uncertainty, rationalising the facts or even doing a bit of research helps. As for the rest, well, my body has a very strong will to survive, even when I don't.

It's both frightening and empowering, to rely on oneself.