Secrets.

Secrets.

Secrets. Things that have been hidden or otherwise secluded from the general knowledge of others. The obvious nature of a secret is to keep something hidden. There are a multitude of reasons for keeping things to oneself.

You know I’ve never told anyone about this…

Family secrets. Finances. Gossip. The Past. Shame. The compartmentalization of facts and events to be kept confidential. Discreet. Children keep the simple things. Innocent. Quiet and full of laughter. Adults hold knowledge hostage in the most mysterious manner. Guiltily. Quiet and full of trepidation.

Divulge your secret? Hush-hush.

My great uncle on my father’s side had webbed feet. It’s the oldest secret that I know and quite possibly the most ridiculous. For generations my family has carried this secret. To my utter amusement, I can’t help but disclose at cocktail parties. It’s a fascinating conversation starter. People always make the leap to assume I come from a long line of side show freaks or circus performers. Neither of which is true. But I can’t help but wonder why my family would have kept such an interesting detail hidden.

Keep it under your hat.

These tedious little tidbits are things that we do not volunteer. Tiny missing details that sleep alongside us in bed, sit next to us at meals, and walk neck-and-neck with us. Hidden truths unintentionally silenced. Building walls and separating without intention. Growing into unnecessary silences followed by all out confrontations.

Don’t you dare say a word.

Secrets are not to be confused with a surprise. Although the most delectable secrets can be quite a surprise when revealed. I once had a torrid affair with a married man. The whole business came and went rather informally. It wasn’t something I was ashamed of or lied about. All the lying was done on his part. I’d always pitied him for having to lie. As a matter of fact, the situation wasn’t anything I’d deliberately kept hidden away. Often enough I’m surprised I’d kept it tucked away from everyone.


Expose yourself?

A way of keeping our feelings from revealing us fully to the world. Guarding the most private of our affairs. Is it vanity or insecurity that motivates a person to keep a truth? One can argue that keeping secrets is a lot like lying. It is a very thin line drawn that separates between a secret and a lie. Where this line ends the hidden so completely damages and destroys.

Shh… Bite your tongue.

Ten days before my best friend was getting married, she packed a bag and left the continental US without a single word to anyone. Four days into her so called freedom trail, she called me from a Cuban brothel. With only $10 Canadian currency, a see-thru bra and a tattoo of Sonny Bono on her left butt cheek she found clarity. Three flights and two connections later, as she got off the plane and came back home I came to find out there are things scarier than getting married. Things you will never have to talk about. Other than a very necessary, informative conversation about Sonny Bono we’ve never discussed it and her fiancé was completely oblivious to the absence.

Brush it under the carpet.

Skeletons in the closet. Deep dark secrets. The kind that seek to destroy a person. Out of sight? Mostly in plain sight. A far cry from lying, but not so obvious to those around us. Hidden life out in the open. Open for the mystery to be revealed in the most offensive manner. Something like that of a secret identity. A restricted agenda that must be kept undisclosed at any cost. Secret society. Filled with stealthy encounters and cloak-and-dagger meetings. Members only handshakes. Questionable circumstances that no one can find out about. Pretending to be someone you are not. A lie within a secret. There can be no worse tragedy than keeping that horrific secret. Life on the run. Knowing you will never be at peace or find serenity. There’s no turning back. Holding back. No one to trust. You’ve begun to believe the secret. The secret becomes the lie.

You’re the only one I’ve ever trusted enough to share…

Killing a man. Watching his body slump over as the blood trails along the ground. There’s no closet large enough to hold that one. The world seeks out to destroy the deepest secrets. Savoring the pleasure of slicing into his soft flesh. Enticing is the scent of his death. The beating of a heart slowing down to nothing. Burying the body in the old orchard. Never marking the grave. It doesn’t matter who he was. Never look back. A dark memory kept within my psyche locks the secret of this moment. I’ll never share it.

The one thing that no one else knows.

Painful as it is there can be no mistake of the damage inflicted by the person holding the key to the locked cage. Even the best hidden secrets find their way to the light, in full view waiting to be discovered or stumbled upon. The motivations behind keeping them is of no importance. Secrets remain protected. Guarded. Concealed. Despite the obvious nature of concealment secrecy in broad daylight is meant to be revealed.

Seemed appropriate to share a secret. So I've spent quite a bit of time tonight trying to think of a secret to share. I kinda want to give you something weird. It's a bit difficult. See I don't keep anything hidden deliberately. The trick with me is that I do not share voluntarily. Point blank if you ask, I will answer or explain why I refuse. I don't tend to hide things unless its necessary. [Stalkers]  When I was quite a bit younger [22?], I had friends chastise me severely for saying that I kept 'secrets'. From their point of view I didn't. And they were very right. I'm a open book with pages that are stuck together on occasion. Anyhow, my secrets would be more like a guilty pleasures or indulgences. I like to... um, if you're expecting me to admit to running nude in the rain at night, wrong entry. And really there is no stripper pole in my bedroom. that's in storage. hehe.  

Anyhow, I hope this is still appreciated. Enjoy! M.