Ramblings of a lonely Madman

Secrets - [1]

Secrets, a blessing and a curse alike.

Blessing since they give me some form of significance in life which other things cannot provide.

Does a job make me special? Do good grades make me special? Do good looks make me special? Does performing a backflip make me special? Possibly. But all of the other questions would be answered with a decisive 'no' by me. Yet maybe the sole reason I deny the uniqueness of these traits and accomplishments is because I myself do not possess or gained them.

However an unshared secret does give me some sentiment of importance. Not to the ones I keep it from but to the world which yearns to know my secret. Well, in reality it doesn't. And I admit that fact.

Few people actually want to know secrets or if they do, then simply for the thrill of uncovering something someone else deemed worthy enough of safekeeping, thus reassuring that the trust you put in a person is reciprocated, or for the plain reason of not feeling left out, a feeling secrets create most of the times for those that thought they were close enough to you to know but painfully realized that these feelings weren't mutual.

This unreal yet palpable significance to the world is what makes secrets precious, not the fact that they're terrible or too horrible to spread.

Exactly this tension and thrill upon unveiling a secret in a pompous, exuberant manner which sometimes the mystery doesn't even deserve, enthralls all of us in an inexplicable manner. Fabulous, isn't it? How we give value to something which has none and how we put value into something which may not even exist, as many secrets are unfortunately just lies spun from the back of the head to impress society and attentively listening and following sheep in the flock.

However as most things in the world, secrets are ambivalent and also do possess their dark sides, for example like I already mentioned the exclusion and betrayal of certain friends which experience absolute sorrow from knowing that they're not "valuable" enough for the secretkeeper to be trusted with retaining it hidden.

Secrets lead to misunderstandings. Misunderstandings lead to disputes. Disputes lead to trouble. And if we are honest, who wants trouble except when heated and fiery or in some cases drunk?

For an overthinker such as I am one, secrets are probably the most horrible thing, especially when sadistically, even if unintentionally, smeared right into your face, leaving you a nervous, unsure wreck for hours if not days. In these moments, infinite possible, no matter how unluckily, scenarios play out in my head, the worst dreads and pathetic hopes flaming up inside my heart as two restraining anchors for personal development and evolution.

But despite admitting the harm secrets create, I still keep them, just like every other human being on this planet. Why? For precisely the reasons I explained above. Which importance to the world, even if only imaginary, would I, a teenager who hasn't done anything major yet, possess?

In the end, I'm a hypocrite for demanding the revelation of secrets to the broad mass, because I could never gather the courage to actually set foot in this extroverted terrain belonging solely to the people with balls of steel (of course also my female readers included :) sorry I adore the metaphor).

One day, I hope to finally be able to break free from the restraints I myself put on me for my own safety to enter the world of dangers, to enter the world of liberty, of freedom and of mutual understanding without fatal discord.

Secrets, a blessing and a curse alike.