I’m a great liar. I’m a wonderful hider of things, and I keep secrets all the time. My mind is a whirling tornado of deceit and despair that holds secrets beyond its normal capacity and anything healthy. Some are secrets that have come from others. These secrets I have vowed to keep with all my heart and being, and I do not think that anyone would doubt that. Other secrets are of my own. These are even more secure because no other soul knows about them and because they would be much more difficult for me to let escape. It would almost bring me pain if I were to tell them. It would be as if a part of me is ripping away and the new, exposed space that the secret once covered is raw and tender, like a flesh wound. It in fact, pains me to even write at this current moment because my entire body and every nerve in it is on edge trying to contain secrets, while being trusted. That is the issue. I am not trusted. No matter how hard I try I can never be trusted. I have come to the point of being trusted on several occasions. I have basked in the freedom of being trusted by many a person. However, some part of me must not enjoy it because I tend to ruin and demolish this trust in moments like this when the secrets I contain force me to make impulsive decisions, destroying thoughts that others had about me, or worse yet confirming them. It is a horrible state of mind in which to live. I hate myself for it. As once quoted by a dear friend or so I thought, “I never full tell the truth, there is always something missing.” I hate what is missing, or at least some part of me does, because I always allow myself to fall into habits I have sworn to alleviate. So what is the meaning of this so-called existence? The existence of never fully opening up, never fully living what other people would consider a life. A life in which other people know your secrets, and, better yet, they keep them for you. What is this unknown fantasy of trust and forgiveness that I’ve so long lived without? Perhaps I shall never know.
***Thanks for reading. This is an excerpt from a character’s journal in the short story I am currently working on. It is one of my favorite passages from the plot, so even though the short story isn’t quite finished, I thought I’d share a small preview.***