My secret
I cry when I read Postsecret.com. That is, er, was my secret–until now. Boring, I know. I’ve always wanted to send in a secret but I’ve come across two problems: I can’t come up with anything better than sometimes I double dip and I’m too lazy (and forgetful) to get a postcard. I should do something purposefully shameful or tragic and then not tell anyone so I can send one in. Maybe I can start enjoying the smell of my own farts or send my first-time a carton of sour cream through the mail in July with no return address. Of course I’d have to get his address on Peoplefinder.com and that costs money. Sigh.
Anyhow, I was catching up on the site and came across this postcard (it’s no longer on the site–it’s from a couple of weeks ago):
I literally gasped. I think, to date, that is the most shocking card I’ve seen on the site so far. And while my first reaction to the comment about being molested and never telling anyone was incredible sadness, my reaction to the second part was not horror. What went through my mind were questions: How did you find him? What did you do? How did you get away with it?! I’m not sure what that says about me. It’s probably a reflection on how little I value a molester’s life. I can handle being a bad person if that’s what it takes to earn the label.
While I really like the site, the lack of an email address to reach Frank (although there are emails posted in between some of the secrets–how does that happen?) is frustrating. What the site woefully lacks are archives. Very simply, that sucks. Big. A tip for those of you who are also bothered by it: subscribe to the site’s feed. That way it will be archived in your blog reader and you won’t miss out if you’re like me and don’t get a chance to check in for a couple/few weeks at a time.
