Secrets. Everyone has them. Some are bad, some are scary, and some are beautiful.
I remember the pain I felt the moment I realized I had a secret. I was ashamed of myself. Why out of all the people born at the same moment I was, was I chosen to carry this burden? It's shameful.
I've grown up pulling the weight of reality behind me. I've tried to keep going, but somewhere along the line it just got to be too much, and I gave up. I gave up trying to hold back, and I gave up pretending. I gave up being ashamed, and I gave up being afraid.
I became dangerous. Ever time I opened my mouth I worried those two words would come out.
And eventually they did. In a fit of panic and depression I slipped up.
At that moment the entire world froze and the fear that had been consuming me was finally put to rest.
I bet you remember that moment as clear as day. The tears and the emotion as I cried to you on the phone. Secretly you were saddened by my confession. And secretly you hoped it wasn't true. I did, too.
I've wanted nothing more than to make you proud, and it's eating me alive to know that you are ashamed of me. You don't show it, because what's the point of having a secret if everyone knows.
Don't worry. I won't tell your secret, after all, I still have a few of my own.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To No One
No FicciónA collection of letters I've written that will never be claimed and never leave the safety of my journal.
