Secrets

We all have them. The things we cannot, or maybe do not, share. The reasons vary. Different people, of course, have different reasons for keeping things to themselves. Yet a single person may have several different reasons for keeping silent on a variety of subjects. We all have different criteria to determine what constitutes a secret. It may be that we are ashamed of it, or feel that others, upon hearing it, would perceive us differently. It could be that we just cannot bear to examine the secret. That the very sight of it causes us nearly palpable pain. I don’t really know how it works for other people, but getting too close to my secret makes me smell that sharp, hot tin smell that tastes like fresh blood. It scares me and I run away. It is an act of self preservation. Too much pain is bad for a person. It will make you old. Sometimes I think that that is the reason for suicide. People just have so much built up pain that it has made them too old to wait for the natural end of their life.
Some people take great pride in ferreting out other’s secrets. Not me. I think it is best to let people pretend to be whoever they think they need to be in order to ease their soul. That means some people will lie to you about really basic things. That always makes me wonder how bad the stuff they’re running from is. Probably worse than the blood-taste. Everyone thinks that their own secrets are the most difficult, but I imagine that if we laid them all out on the table, say in plain brown wrappers, we would have difficulty picking our own out. It is hard to judge what secrets drive other people, or whether or not they have them. A friend of mine called the other day, kind of disturbed. It seems someone she knew in a rather periferial way, had shot and killed another man at a convienience store while they were both on their way to work. She kept saying, “He always seemed so normal.” And he probably was. His secrets were likely a bit different than hers or mine, however. The thing is, no matter what the size or shape or your secret, they all feel the same to the one carrying them.
I am not an advocate of the “let it all hang out” philosophy. I also don’t believe that I would be “healthier” if I exposed my painful sores and buried agonies for the eddification of every passing stranger. My secrets cause me pain. Talking about them feels like ripping the scabs from a poorly healed wound. How can one heal if their hurt is never allowed to rest? There is a difference between things that are festering and those that are merely healing. I try and cover my secrets with pretty things. I think it is wrong to try and peek behind the curtain without an invitation.

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4 Comments

  1. melanie said,

    May 5, 2013 at 1:11 pm

    Well…this moved me to tears. I carefully choose who I share my secrets with. I regretfully ran away from one instead of facing it head-on, for it was bound to be uncovered eventually. Again, excellent.

    • witchyluck said,

      May 5, 2013 at 3:49 pm

      thank you for reading. may your secrets always be treated honorably by those you gift them to.

  2. ittymac said,

    June 20, 2013 at 5:40 pm

    Powerful.


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