Secrets
I have secrets. Yes, it is plural and I have loads of them – some of it have been forgotten somewhere down the path of my living. Some of it so big, I try to protect them so hard and left the others prone to be burst out. Some say that this world has no boundaries. Yes it is and so does the blogging world. Thank god I made myself anonymous; at least I can tell my stories and secrets over here without any judgmental dickheads.
Secret, it is like an atomic bomb. Like your raging wrath inside yourself. Waiting the perfect time to be burst out. Secret, you love to have it for your own and for most of the times, you love to seek for a company to share the secret so that you won’t be going crazy talking to yourself about the thing you’re the only one know. Finding a perfect listener for a secret so deep it wrecks you when you found out that the one you chose is the one you toss. And when the secret gets its third company, you hurt and start to hinder what you’ve done before not to be blamed for the fault you’ve committed.
The secret is so big; no one would love to keep for themselves. What an evening with cups of tea without anything to be gossiped with your closest comrades? And when this thing happens you start to bawl and worry and sorry for yourself for being so stupid telling inconvenient truth to the others while it is always be safe to write it in a diary or talk to a tree like one kid’s story where this lumberjack keeps on telling secrets to a hole of a tree and eventually when the tree being knocked or hit by a hammerhead, the tree wails the secrets this lumberjack has been telling all this while. And it is safe because tree cannot tell secrets and the story is a big lie.
Secret, it hurts you. It possesses you to an extent when you can’t take those anymore, you rupture your own secrets, you cry and couldn’t stop feel sorry for yourself. Secret, it is damaging. It eats your flesh and bites your freedom of living. Secret doesn’t need to be kept because the way to keep a secret is to spill it out.
Secret, it is like an atomic bomb. Like your raging wrath inside yourself. Waiting the perfect time to be burst out. Secret, you love to have it for your own and for most of the times, you love to seek for a company to share the secret so that you won’t be going crazy talking to yourself about the thing you’re the only one know. Finding a perfect listener for a secret so deep it wrecks you when you found out that the one you chose is the one you toss. And when the secret gets its third company, you hurt and start to hinder what you’ve done before not to be blamed for the fault you’ve committed.
The secret is so big; no one would love to keep for themselves. What an evening with cups of tea without anything to be gossiped with your closest comrades? And when this thing happens you start to bawl and worry and sorry for yourself for being so stupid telling inconvenient truth to the others while it is always be safe to write it in a diary or talk to a tree like one kid’s story where this lumberjack keeps on telling secrets to a hole of a tree and eventually when the tree being knocked or hit by a hammerhead, the tree wails the secrets this lumberjack has been telling all this while. And it is safe because tree cannot tell secrets and the story is a big lie.
Secret, it hurts you. It possesses you to an extent when you can’t take those anymore, you rupture your own secrets, you cry and couldn’t stop feel sorry for yourself. Secret, it is damaging. It eats your flesh and bites your freedom of living. Secret doesn’t need to be kept because the way to keep a secret is to spill it out.
Comments
me too.. i have so many dark secrets..!!!