My secret...

Tonight I met Frank.

I entered the gallery in Georgetown, I donated money, I bought a copy of the book, and... standing to my left, shaking people's hands was Frank. So we stood there, we attempted a few failed approaches, and I finally made eye contact, stuck out my hand and shook Frank's hand. He signed my book... he's rather witty if I do say so myself :), ANYWAY!

You don't know who Frank is? Shame on you... I keed, but no really.

Back story:
You can find this on the website BUT the short version is Frank = artist. Frank buys 3000 post cards asking for people to send him their secrets. Frank hands them out on the metro, he sticks them in books at the library, he leaves them at other gallery's... Frank gets nothing back for a couple weeks and feels his plan is at a loss. One day Frank gets a post card, on it is someone's grocery list - crossed out and replaced by another, and in the corner in small small print someone wrote "I feel alone" (or something like that I don't really remember what it said). Someone answered his plea... someone took the postcard, used it as scrap paper - but held on to it long enough to finally put their secret on it and mail it to Frank. From that day they started pouring in, and post secret was born...

I shook Franks hand, I thanked him for letting us be at the opening, I conversed, and then I hit the gallery. I stood there looking at the very small pieces of art that defined that certain someone's deepest secret. I read about regret and remorse, sorrow and happiness. I read about jealousy and resentment, and then... I saw mine. I couldn't even finish reading it before my heart jumped into my throat and my eyes started watering over and I jerked my head away.

I'd made it and mailed it a long time ago - and it still hit home. The time I took to make it was the time I needed to portray it...

But I couldn't bring myself to reread it at the gallery- to show any emotion towards it, to reclaim it as mine. I was thankful I was alone at this part of the gallery, we had all spaced ourselves out... picking through each section of our own accord... but then again, I wasn't alone.

Now I am an emotional person, a lot of the secrets did make my eyes well up, my heart stop, you can't help but to relate... but as I was standing there staring at the piece of my soul I had so thoughtfully made 2-D I heard the girl next to me sniffle... and I saw her reach for my secret... and touch it. That's when I realized she was crying, that's when I walked away.

She'd touched it. She'd felt it. She'd claimed it...

I never felt as small as I did in that room. My problems seemed non existant compared to some of the others. I cursed myself for taking the little things for granted, for allowing petty things to burdon me.

2 hours later I had only completed two-fifths of the gallery before I decided i'd have enough... I rounded up the group with sweet talk of food, I bid farewell to Frank, asked him when he'd be back so I could come visit again, and I left to come back later and finish my experience - maybe alone, maybe with someone I trust, but knowing the next time would probably be more emotional.

My brain had gone into overload - I know I will be visiting the gallery many times in the coming weeks... to see the secrets, and the impact they have on others... to see the impact they have on me.