—–Email—–
—–Frank@PostSecret.com—–

Dear Frank,

Last week you were speaking in Portland, Oregon.  I walked in a little late to a very crowded room. You said a few words, a few more and then, suddenly, I recognized my words:

15 years-ago . . . adoption . . . 1 year-ago . . . trick or treating . . .

Tears sprang to my eyes. You were reading MY secret.  And I heard it. Everyone heard it. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest I was certain everyone could hear it too. I wanted to yell out “That’s my secret!”

I went home later, after buying a few books, and told my husband that you read my secret to hundreds of people. He smiled and hugged me.  I asked him if he wanted to know what it was.  He said; “No, a whole room full of strangers knows, and that’s enough.”

Thank you.

—–Email—–

Dear Frank,

I mailed in one of the secrets that made it into your book, PostSecet Confessions on Life, Death and God. Mine reads-

“When another woman steals your man, the best revenge is to let her keep him.”

Funny story, my ex-husband’s wife (the other woman) dropped my kids off at my house last week and saw my PostSecret book in the kitchen. She exclaimed,

“I love that book! Have you seen the one about stealing another person’s man? That one’s my favorite!”

She had no idea it was about her.

—–Email—–

Two weeks ago I was placed in a psych ward for attempting to take my own life. I was sitting alone until another boy came up to me and simply said, “You’re not the most fucked up person anymore.” For the first time in my life I didn’t feel like I was the only one struggling.

—–Email—–

Frank,
The message about the girl in the psychiatric hospital with the boy who let her in on the secret that she isn’t alone. I’m the girl. I sent you that 8 years ago. Two week after my suicide attempt. It stopped me in my tracks to see it again. I sent it to you on a whim. I can’t remember why. I struggled hard for a few years after this. I struggle still but am stable now. Thank you for honoring me and all of us in what you do.

The ‘Museum of Us’ in San Diego has expanded the PostSecret Exhibition to include “Naked Mail”. Secrets written and mailed on objects, not postcards.

The potato and knife mailed to PostSecet with secrets are not on view, but you will be able to see the artificial banana, (packaged) condom, coconut, license plate, shirt, roller skate, the original PostSecret mailbox, and more.

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.