7:48 Early Monday Evening   What I Don't Want You to Know i should have told you about a million years ago. when you first asked. But it hurt you so much when I made the first admission that I can't tell you the deeper, darker things. I think everyone involved would rather forget about all of that. For the life of me, I wish that my deepest darkest secrets were anywhere near as shallow and light as yours. Because the fact that you told me some of your deep darkness makes me at once relieved and terrified. Because in all honesty, I've been a liar. Because when I told you the littlest thing, you freaked out, and after that I was too scared to regale to you the rest of the sad tale. When you asked, I said no. I always wanted to tell you, if not just to get it off my chest. Put it out in the open. I'm just so afraid of this can of unruly worms that I've hidden it in the most cobwebbed corners of my secrets cellar, where everyone else will be too afraid to touch it, either. You have no idea, If it was anyone but you, I would have come out and said it in an instant. But as Sir Walter Scott would say, oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. Someday I'll come clean with you. I want to come clean with you. I hate hiding things from you, and hurts to think I don't trust you enough to still love me for mistakes of the past. Even the ones I learned from and never repeated...oh sigh.