Too many, sometimes. The loss of naivete is also, to some extent, the loss of normal social function, or at least the ability to engage in it (whether or not it actually inheres in one, which is a totally separate thing). I remember when I was with J— there were always so many things I wanted to post, largely because I couldn’t say them without causing earthquakes that I didn’t want to cause. But of course if talking causes earthquakes then so does posting. At some point in life you have to weigh the stifling sensation of having to keep your thoughts to yourself against the possibility that you will create even bigger unhappinesses that you absolutely don’t want to create.
There is an entire universe of “hidden” posts that never make it here. Someday after I am long dead, I sincerely hope that someone reads all of them. (I do keep all of this stuff archived as well.) The thought that these things that I meant to say will eventually be heard is beyond comforting to me. It is perhaps the happiest thought of which I can conceive.
It’s too bad we can’t read everyone else’s thoughts. This is less because I want to be able to read other peoples’ thoughts than because I want them to be able to read mine. By the way they react, I would know who was on my side and who wasn’t, who I could trust and who I couldn’t, much more than by simply reading their thoughts.