The Inner Monologue

Ah, the age-old adage: “Knowledge is power.” A noble sentiment, really. The more you know, the more you can outmaneuver, outthink, and outlast the competition. It’s the intellectual equivalent of hoarding gold in a dystopian wasteland—except, in this case, the gold loses all value the second you open your big mouth.

Which brings us to the other timeless proverb: “Three can keep a secret… if two of them are dead.” Now, isn’t that just a delightful commentary on human nature? We know that discretion is the better part of not getting fired, sued, or mysteriously “disappeared,” and yet—here we are, a species biologically incapable of resisting the siren song of gossip.

The Science of Selective Amnesia (When It Comes to Shutting Up)

You’d think that with millennia of practice, humans would have evolved a functioning “keep your trap shut” instinct. But no. Instead, we’ve perfected the art of:

1. The Unnecessary Confession – “I probably shouldn’t say this, but…” (Spoiler: They definitely shouldn’t.)
2. The Cryptic Boast – “Oh, if only you knew what I know.” (Congratulations, you’ve now made yourself a target.)
3. The Whispered Secret in a Crowded Room – “This is just between us…” (Said to six people, who will each tell six more, in a beautiful betrayal pyramid scheme.)

Why Do We Do This to Ourselves?

Is it the dopamine hit of feeling important? The thrill of temporary superiority? Or just the sheer, unbridled optimism that this time, the person we’re telling definitely won’t tell anyone else? (Spoiler #2: They will.)

The truth is, secrecy is a muscle, and most people’s discretion is flabbier than a deflated balloon. We know silence is power. We know loose lips sink ships (and careers, and friendships). And yet—here we are, forever mistaking our own mouths for a vault instead of the town crier it truly is.

The Solution? (Good Luck With That.)

If history has taught us anything, it’s that the only foolproof way to keep a secret is to never tell a single soul—not your best friend, not your therapist, and certainly not your group chat. Because the moment you share it, you’ve effectively published it in the New York Times with a link to your LinkedIn.

So the next time you’re tempted to spill the beans, ask yourself: Do I want power… or do I want to be the reason this ends up on Twitter by noon? Choose wisely.

(But let’s be real—you won’t.)

—A Hypocrite Who Definitely Just Gossiped Yesterday