every action has an equal opposite reaction

Secrets suck... a lot. But it's worth it, I guess. Especially if it belongs to someone you truly care about. It all depends on the intensity of it. There's no point of a secret if it's something petty like hating someone who thinks you actually like them. No, a real secret is a personal fact that one can entrust to another without doubting their sense of right and wrong. Only a special person in your life can have the strength to keep it to themselves. The weak ones are the people who share, thinking that there will be no consequences. An idiotic move like that will lead them down a deep, unescapable path of karma and betrayal. Unlike them, I have a secret I have to harness. It's not mine personally, but I act as if it was to keep it out of irrelevant conversations and out of the mouths of unworthy teenagers.

This gift was passed on to me by someone I value greatly. I'm sure she has doubts about how much I truly recognize her as a best friend. By "best friend" I mean the one person in the world who I trust entirely without regret. The only loyal, communicative, passionate human in the world that cares about my well-being. Often times, the overprotectiveness becomes overwhelming so reminders have to be put into place. No doubt, I do the same for her. The only exception is my grandmotherly instincts only come into play when the most touchiest of topics are mentioned, or when one might mock the situation—her secret. No, no others know her tale, but the situation is... common, sadly. I hate mentioning it to her. I feel that if I do, unwanted memories will emerge and cause her to be stressed and anxious the rest of the day. On the other hand, if I avoid these moments, she might not believe I sincerely care.

Decisions are really hard to make.

She originally gave hints about her circumstances before we were closer, presenting it as a joke. At first I was confused. The conversation started with the order of words in a book. It spoke about family matters. I didn't understand why the simple words wouldn't affect me, but affected her. Was it the way I was raised? Was it only a girl problem? Or was it something more? Something a person couldn't really describe, but had to experience for themselves. That must've been the case because I haven't yet felt what she feels, but only know what it's like to carry the weight of her beliefs and her emotions. She obviously has never felt the situations I've been in. Descriptions are all we can hang on to. Most of the time, society wants us to understand what others feel, saying, "I completely know what you're going through. I'm so sorry." But in reality, we don't really understand how another actually feels, so how can one truly be sorry for a person if they don't grasp another's true emotions. Perhaps we're just feeling sorry for ourselves that we can't comprehend what they feel. Maybe I feel bad because if I don't fathom exactly what she is feeling, I can't help her.

Despite the uncertainties of life and hard decisions we have to make, her and I try to make our world bright. Society in general, whether its a school community or a popular fanbase, everything seems so dark. It feels like breathing in a world where there is no air. Everything feels impossible, and everyone is pressured into everything. It's a hazardous gravitational pull that can either help you succeed or lead you to failure. The unlucky part is that the more we try to light up someone else's life, the more our light fades and it's us needing the handicap. And no matter how many times we assist each other to make ourselves comfortable in the presence of life, there is always one thought in the back of our minds that doubts each other. It's inevitable to remove our slight hesitations of one another, but that never ignores the fact we still care for each other.

Over the course of the year, I can tell that she is starting to believe that the facts and compliments people give her are all lies. Those overall doubts in her mind are like the tides of the sea. When it is high tide, her hesitation towards me and others are covered and forgotten by intense feelings of emotion and excitement. But when low tide comes around, her mind has time to analyze and decipher all the actions we do together, might it be practicing a dance together and laughing or sitting next to each other for a period of time and not exchanging a single word.

She told me something relative to this before. It was when we declared ourselves best friends. I remember her words. Not all, but most. She said, "My mind goes back and forth."

Of course I didn't completely understand at the time, so I questioned her. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's hard making these kind of decisions. The defining ones."

"Why does it feel hard?"

"A person in their lifetime has done so much. They've done things that we, us, consider good and bad. It's hard to mark up the tallies of good and bad deeds because certain actions have greater impacts than others."

"I understand. So I suppose you're having a hard time accepting this declaration of ours, huh?" I said jokingly.

She giggled. "No, of course not. For you, I would do anything—that's what my heart says. But my mind just feels swollen with information for decision-making and it's hard to think and pick a side."

I paused for a moment. All these words and phrases that were coming out of her mouth are all connected to a source—a strong source, a scary one. I had a instant of realization. To be honest, I felt scared and worried. Did she bring up this idea on purpose, or was it just by chance? I resumed from my moment of awareness. "This decision-making problem of yours, does it have to do with the morals of a person?"

"Absolutely."

Maybe it was her subconscious searching for a way to let her wary thoughts out. "Do you enjoy talking about these things? Do you enjoy talking about how you think?"

She looked at me with confusion, curiosity, and sad honesty. "No. It feels too personal. But I gave you my brain's spare key, so I don't really mind." She stared, looking into my eyes to find the evidence I was searching for to hopefully disprove this realization of mine. She caught me. "You're overthinking this situation, sir. There is nothing so important in my brain for you to feel the need to interrogate me." She said this with a straight face, hiding a childish smile behind her lips.

She approaches everything with a smile. That's the one thing about her that will never disappoint me. "I was looking for something." That was the only excuse I could give.

"Oh really?" She said playfully. "I guess if my information is that important to you, maybe I can lend it over. But answer this question first."

Bribery: Clever.

She began. "Why do you need what I have in the first place?"

"I'm trying to prove myself wrong."

"Why?"

"I want to make sure you're ok."

"Why wouldn't I be ok?" Her voice was still playful as always. She still thinks this is a joke.

I sighed. "All I wanted to do was make sure your hesitation towards changing the way you look at a person is unrelated to the conditions that you experienced two summers ago. I couldn't ignore the similarities between the two so I had to investigate."

She became silent. The playful look she displayed faded away into a disappointed face. I expected her to be mad, but bringing a topic like this up over and over again is tiring, so she ignores her anger and silently lives through the memories over and over again. Her brain was at low tide. This time, instead of deciphering and analyzing her opponent, the memories of that summer—her secret—emerge from nothing. Then she thinks about it, and scenes play on repeat. Neverending taunts by one's own brain is complete and utter torture. This is a time where she becomes quiet and self aware. She doesn't talk and becomes nervous. She believes her opinion on the matter is completely irrelevant. Another belief of hers is that the only relevant opinion is how she feels towards the monster that she has fell victim of. So I wonder. Is the way she thinks because of how she was raised, or was it the result of her personal fact.

To add any possible support, I tell her she's very brave for telling me what she's gone through. She tells me that she just was afraid of losing. The amount of fear I have for her, and the amount of hatred I have towards this cruel being that she encountered feels chaotic. Perhaps this chaos that I feel was what she was afraid of losing to. This monster's chaos.