Literary Privacy

I was reading a book by Chuck Klosterman. Chuck is quite a thinker...as much as any of us. I could relater to Chuck because the majority of the thoughts that he wrote about revolved around the way he perceived everyone else perceiving him. Perfect.
Perfectly selfish and egotistical. If I had the same experiences as Chuck, I could have wrote that book.

In his book her does a lot of writing about his relationships with women. It struck me, that I too could do the same thing, although I haven't yet. Its not that I would have a lot of women to write about, its that I could spend pages dissecting what I think that they were thinking in any given situation. Some of my worst moments in the past few years have been when I actually vocalized these dissections to the women in my life. I have definitely learned that a little censorship of my internal voices is a good thing. But...

Once a little time has passed...can I share my thoughts then? What if I change names? Situations? Who will know? What about my future wife? Can I write about her? Us? When will it be okay? Chuck didn't necessarily wait--he just wrote about what he was feeling...it doesn't always have to be damaging. But the one thing he noted that makes me cringe, both because I know it to be my own tendency as well as knowing how much it angers me when I experience it...

Is the fact that often time the things that I can make into cohesive thoughts on paper-with my words-are things I don't know how to say out loud.