The Secrets We Don’t Bother to Keep
The first time I mentioned to my friends that my life had changed in a drastic way, they seemed to pity me. They swarmed around me, offering support at every turn for the next minutes before I eventually asked them to stop. I don’t think they understood that I told them because I was tired of keeping it a secret more than I needed them to know. I didn’t need anything they could offer me, except the ability to no longer be hiding a secret I didn’t find worthwhile.
--
I eventually told them, after a long night of what passes for gossip amongst young children, who I had a crush on. I made it seem as though I didn’t want to tell them, as though they had convinced me to do something I wouldn’t have otherwise. But I had wanted to tell them, and by letting them think that my secret was something I truly wished to hide, I felt as though I had gained a secret of my own. I don’t think I was the only one who felt this way by the end of the night.
--
Whenever I’m sitting amongst a group of friends, we take to telling stories. Little anecdotes, that lead into learning the most obscure details of each other’s lives. Sometimes, they recall stories about my younger years. They always turn to me, checking that it is alright to tell a story that centers around my potentially embarrassing antics. I nod with a slight smile, and tell them I’m fine with everyone present hearing these memories of what I used to get up to. I am fine with them knowing, because what’s the point in hiding if I’m not the same person?
--
When my cousins came over when I was younger, I would be in charge of making sure they didn’t destroy the house. One of the easiest activities was hide and seek. We would scatter around the house, inhabiting one of the half dozen decent spots that could be found. With it usually being my house, I would always know where to find them when I was the seeker. But when it was my turn to hide, I would instead sit next to the adults at the counter in plain sight. This was not due to a need to wish to be amusing, one to let the younger children win, or even a sense of claustrophobia regarding the best hiding spots. Why bother showing them where I would hide my secrets, when they will most likely add it to the pool of regularly checked locations? Might as well hide these spots for when they are truly needed. I would think. Looking back, I clearly still had my sense of drama then. I certainly haven’t outgrown it now.
--
Whenever I read a new book, a story that I find interesting in some way, I find a couple catchphrases that I decide to use in my everyday life. This is primarily to see if anyone recognizes them, if anyone else has heard the same story. Usually they haven’t. Somehow, a couple lines about lying and trust piled up in the same stretch of time. Now my friends think that I’m able to lie, that I’m capable of spinning realistic tales that are entirely fictitious on the spot. I might be, but I don’t. If they already think I’m lying, what’s the shame in telling nothing but the truth?
--
I’ve started to notice that I sometimes try to be a different kind of person. I suppose it’s not out of the ordinary, no one is always the same around different people, let alone the varied crowd that I associate myself with. One day I was sitting on the ground, thinking about this. I wondered what version of myself I wanted to be, given that no one was watching. I realized I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted to be, let alone what I was. Don’t pity me for this, it isn’t what I want by telling you this. I just don’t think it needs to be a secret anymore.
Comments
Post a Comment