I've decided that there is plenty best left unsaid.

Despite the overwhelming urge to unburden myself.

It's just not fair. To force revelations upon strangers.

They don't know what to do with the information, and might not appreciate the enforced intimacy.

Overall, bad plan. Common enough. But bad plan.

Just learning how to live with it all under my own skin. Itching like the movie that came out when I was little- about the ants under people's skin. I saw the poster at the drive in, when I went into the concessions stand to use the bathroom. The place was painted the red of an aorta. And smelled like popcorn. I suppose that is what it smells like in the operating theater when they perform an open heart surgery. A mixture of popcorn, dust and that pink, grainy bathroom soap.