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I was thinking about sincerety. I've never been completely, 100 % honest with anyone. A shadow of censorship always watches over my shoulder poking me to mind my words. There are certain thoughts I could never afford to reveal to anyone, even my journal. Some of it are inhumane, some are shamelessly vain and some are simply insane. Maybe that is not such a bad thing-to have parts of me concealed from everyone, like a trust fund for the rainiest of days; and if I happen to lose what I have shared with others I would still have my trust fund to start over with.

That's one way to put it. Another way is to admit that apparently there isn't anyone in my life that I trust completely. It is amusing how the choice of perspective makes the difference between being mysterious and simply pathetic, isn't it?