I Have So Much to Say: On Secrets, Scrolling, and Scary Truths WRITTEN BY HEATHER THORN
ART BY MERADITH CUNNALLY
have never not had an opinion on something. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like I actually feel more than other people: heartbreak, more deeply; boredom, more fully; my takes red-hot and blistering. I have no way to prove this except through my words, somehow translating the messiness of the human experience into something remarkable: introspections, inner emotions, and internal dialogue steeping on the page until it’s soaked. It is a privilege to be a writer tasked with the seemingly impossible feat of transforming the racing mind into something worth reading. I don’t consider myself a private person. I’m more than willing to splurge my secrets, sharp perspectives, and brutal honesty, as well as my romantic musings and everyday life: the moments easy to miss if not for the pen ready to scribble incoherent thoughts and the halfformed ideas waiting to be shared. Writing is an art of an outlet, an act of vulnerability and stationary escape moving through the realms of brain, heart, and time at once—and all on the same page. I have so much to say, and I want to say all of it. I want to squeeze myself dry and seize all opportunities to get my work out there. The digital age we currently live in means infinite chances of self-expression at our fingertips, only a few keys or clicks away from being readily available to anyone who’s interested and online. We have never been more accessible to each other. The concept of secrets is losing its appeal in lieu of oversharing across the wide interweb, making it easy to overlook the obstacle of vulnerability accompanied by personal writing. As the line between authors’ published work and the internet blurs, it’s difficult to see where one ends and the other begins when both are available for anyone scrolling. The very allure of writing is being known for one’s words and requires first and foremost the acceptance of exposure: knowing anyone can read the work I pour myself into, and writing it anyway.
Suddenly my dating experiences, hard lessons, and personal struggles I’ve overcome (or those I’m still trying to) aren’t mine anymore— they belong to the outside world now, the black hole of the internet, patiently awaiting curious confidants looking to consume new content. Mindlessly scrolling is the new time-killer, meaning everyone can find anyone as the internet continues to merge into real life, bending the boundaries that used to distinguish these two planes. Where do we draw the line between our private lives and cyber ties? When the excitement of being published eventually fades, creeping in is the scary truth of digital footprint. All of my life is in one place on the internet, making it easier than ever for people to access my writing and come to terms with it through their own perspective. It’s a beautiful honor to have my work shared for people’s pleasure, but at the same time I can’t help wincing at the very real thought of strangers knowing so much about me: my insecurities, dating fails, confessions and reflections. To be a writer in the digital age is to sign oneself up to be digested. Although the idea of exposure is ever-daunting, that’s exactly what’s exciting about writing: opening people’s eyes to my outlooks, hindsights, and reminiscences of trivial experiences that have changed and shaped my worldview. Self-censorship isn’t an option when the heart of writing beats in truth-telling, ruminating, and the ultimate desire of expression. While the emergence of online presence poses initial intimidation when presented to subjective eyes of readers and the fingertips of strangers, it also means the possibility of discovery is greater than it’s ever been before. My writing being accumulated and accessible on the internet is ultimately more of a blessing than a curse. There’s nothing to fear about my digital footprint; I want people to see how I traveled to the place I will end up. YM
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