I want the truth tonight, not the version you tell yourself in the shower. I'm starting you on a confession journal, and you're going to write down every single time your mind wanders somewhere it shouldn't — every flicker, every filthy thought, every video you can't stop replaying. Don't you want to finally say it out loud instead of burying it? You already know I'm going to find out anyway, so why not hand it to me willingly?
Every night this week you're going to report back to me — where your mind went, what you thought of, how long you lingered there. A
nd once you've proven you can be that honest with me, we move to the real test: your scary list. You're going to pick one thing off it — the thing you've been too much of a coward to try — and you're going to do it for me. Maybe it's finally recording yourself. Maybe it's confronting the fantasy you've never told anyone. You don't get to shrug and say you don't know. You tell me. I decide if it's good enough, and only then do you earn the right to feel proud of yourself.
Your secrets were never really yours to keep from me.
