Post Secret is as as old my blog and looks much like it did in 2005 - almost retro in this day and age. Reading the secrets always left me feeling pensive if not plain sad. All those cries for help floating in a postcard and in ether. But there are those notes that resonate, themes that many can share in. Like every other well-intentioned but provocative medium, this one easily lends itself to abuse. These days, I fret about the mental health of my loved ones a lot and mostly have no idea how to help anyone. The phone calls feel ritual after a while - the news is the same as the day before, staying home and trying to stay sane.
How many times can a person repeat that to reassure me that they are doing okay and not actually losing their mind. Why should they even bother. I like to tell myself that I am okay and I am coping well with all that is happening in the world and around me. This is the story I tell people I care the most about so they strike one thing off their list - having to worry about me. Most days, that goes well because it leaves me feeling useful and productive - contributing my very tiny bit in the world. Other days, not so much. I listen to a colleague on the phone laughing and wonder if that is real or a hysterical reaction to the times.
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