Dear Frank,

My secret reads: It hurts to do jazz hands after I cut myself, but the show must go on. I sent you my secret several years ago shortly before coming to college.

I am now a senior in college and a lot has changed. I am majoring in vocal music performance and specializing in opera rather than musical theatre, so no more jazz hands! But more importantly, I have stopped cutting and am on the road to stopping self-injury totally.

And even more importantly, I have used my experiences related to my secret to help the others who have the same secrets. Over the past three years, I have not only become increasingly more open about my experiences, I have also worked to raise awareness among college students about the stigmas related to self-injury as well as organizing campus-wide events in conjunction with campus counseling services in which people who suffer as self-injurers can come and talk openly and give voice to their secrets related to SI.

Looking at my life now and looking at my secret from the past, it seems like it is an image from someone else’s lifetime. Someone else’s story. But there it is… a reminder of how far I have come and the fact that even then, even in the darkness, I knew there was more… that the show would go on. And thankfully, it has.

     x     
 

“My dad used to say that inside of the car’s airbags was uncooked popcorn. When you wrecked the popcorn would pop and you would have a snack until help came.”

“When I was little, my dad told me ATMs worked by having little monkeys inside them. I believed that for years. Now I work in a bank, and wish it were true!”

“My dad told me that toys grew under the weeds in the yard, and if I pulled them up eventually a toy would pop out.”

See more secrets like this, and other secret exhibitions online at the PostSecret Digital Musem

Visit the online exhibition of audio secrets to hear a collection of voicemails from friends, parents, brothers, sisters, partners, loved ones. Some are funny, many are brief and heartfelt.

Listen here. Or upload your own voicemail, story, and photos.

Our profound gratitude to everyone who contributed their emotional voicemail, photos, and soulful story. Special thanks to exhibition curator, Savannah Morin, and the team at WordPress. This exhibition was made possible with the generous support of the PostSecret Patreons.

—–frank(@)postsecret.com—–

Dear Frank-
My boyfriend knew I was a PostSecret fan and a couple of days before Christmas this was in a package on my porch. It was the most thoughtful and unexpected gift. Thanks Rod and Frank!

All six PostSecret books are still in hardcover are available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or your favorite Independent bookstore. Order now in time for the Holidays. 

See the postcards on exhibition at the Museum of Us.

Get free passes to see the exhibition plus a signed proof from the first PostSecret book and join the community by becoming a ‘PostSecret Partner’ on Patreon. Details

This is the first time a full live event has been shared online.
(Scroll down to the May 28th, 2024 post.) Free link to video

See the most extraordinary secrets and stories, learn my secret, or skip to the 64-minute mark to listen to audience secrets.

Thanks to all PostSecret Patreons who continue to keep the Blog ad-free and keep PostSecret alive with secrets and support.

If you are not a PostSecret Patreon member, please consider joining today for benefits like this and more.

—–frank(@)postsecret.com—–

Dear Frank,

I am the poet who wrote the poem that begins, “Fuck the poets of the past, my friends…” (Its title is “Afterthought.”) My former student published it on Postsecret years ago and it has spread to people in distant places, unknown to me until two years ago, when a woman somehow found me and told me that the poem had help her too.

I saw it posted in Germany a few years ago. So cool. Every couple years somebody writes to me too. One woman sent me two pies once and thanked me for saving her life. Apple and blueberry, crushed in the mail, but I loved every bit.

I was trying to help a few students in one small poetry class on Long Island when I shared that poem with them and today I was notified that it is a Postsecret Classic. You cannot imagine how grateful I am that I have been able to do more good than I intended to, and that I got to find out that I did so. What a gift for the soul.