Every person has at least one thing they have never told anyone. The secret that lives entirely inside. Not because it's terrible — sometimes it isn't — but because something about it feels too specific, too revealing, too likely to change how you're perceived.

Carrying a secret is a particular kind of weight. It requires constant maintenance. You have to remember what you said to whom, which version of yourself is showing in which context. The secret becomes part of your architecture.

This is the place where secrets can be put down, anonymously, for once. The void holds them without asking questions, without judging their weight. Just the thing, finally said.