Every Sunday morning is the same—we sleep in until eleven or so, drag ourselves out of bed, make the coffee, and head right to the computers. This is where the wife and I deviate. She heads to her email; I head directly to check out the latest confessions on Post Secret. In case you’ve been under a some internet rock, this blog’s content is entirely sourced from everyday joes like you and me who have some skeleton in the closet that they want to share with the world. They put it on a postcard, often a rather artful one, and send it anonymously to Frank, the blog’s publisher.

In his words,

You are invited to anonymously contribute your secrets to PostSecret. Each secret can be a regret, hope, funny experience, unseen kindness, fantasy, belief, fear, betrayal, erotic desire, feeling, confession, or childhood humiliation. Reveal anything – as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before.

The reason it’s relevent at the moment is that this week is all about Valentine’s Day and love, both squandered, abused, forgotten, cherished, taken for granted, utterly screwed, and the unbearable sorrow of loneliness. Just the thing to close out the day on, I think.