i confess, i confess
\con*fess"\, v. i. 1. to make confession; to disclose sins or faults, or the state of the conscience.
the idea is for anyone to anonymously confess to anything. it actually feels kind of good to know that someone will read it.
That's the premise behind grouphug.us, a site where you can anonymously let it all out.
The group hug aspect of the site leaves a lot to be desired. There's nowhere that you can leave a message for someone saying, Dude, I know what you're going through. I once spied on my elderly aunt in the bathtub, too! Hug me!
Basically, it's just a bunch of people confessing to odd things or writing about how desperate, sad and lonely their lives are, or just making things up. Perhaps the group hug lies in the fact that misery loves company. Hey, there are tons of miserable bastards like myself out there. I feel so much better now!
I have to say that the anonymous confession part intrigues me. Who doesn't have some musty, dirty skeleton just sitting in their closet, waiting to be invited out? Who among us isn't harboring some childhood secret that causes recurring nightmares and multiple trips to the confession booth, where you always back out and run screaming out of the church at the last minute?
Come on, big group hug for those of us that are holding in a past transgression; it could be a stolen baseball card, a quickie in a chat room with someone who is not your significan other, a lie told to a teacher, a fake bio in your alumni quarterly. Maybe you told your mother-in-law that you love her stuffed cabbage casserole and you're just dying to tell someone what kind of dreck it really was.
Do I have things I need to confess to? You bet.
Am I going to confess my darkest moments here? Not likely. I've put most of those sorry moments away, tucked deep into that part of my mind that only lets things out in the middle of the night, in my dreams, where they manifest themselves in various ways that I decipher upon waking.
But you don't want my dark moments, anyhow. You don't want to read my confessions [bless me father, for I have sinned, it's been x years since my last confession and these are my sins; that is ingrained in my head forever], at least not the ones that would mean something only to me and the people they involved. Let's keep the dark moments where they belong; in the dark.
I can readily confess to other things that don't mean so much in the long run, but someone might get a slight chuckle out of.
I own an Oasis cd.
I voted for Ralph Nader.
I think Justin Timberlake is hot.
I haven't used an iron in years; it's much easier to throw the wrinkled clothes in the dryer for a few minutes.
Yes, that's right. I voted for Ralph Nader.
Hey, maybe that is one of my deep, dark secrets. I feel better, lighter already. Maybe I'll stop dreaming about Al Gore hunting me down with a butcher knife now that I got that out in the open.
Maybe it's time to.....nah, nevermind. You wouldn't want to know about that.