Secrets

                I hate secrets. I hate having things bottled up inside of me that I can’t let go. And maybe these secrets aren’t really secrets. Maybe they’re feelings and experiences and things that I just don’t know how to put into words. Maybe they are internal scars that don’t make sense, that don’t even make sense to me. And how can I hide them in front of people who get close enough to see into my eyes, to see that what I say isn’t matching up to the expression on my face, to the way I wring my hands and tap my feet. It’s like my body is trying to release things that get piled up but if they come out then maybe everything will explode. Then maybe the person looking into my eyes will be blown light years away and I’ll feel empty. Sometimes things leave your mouth making you feel better but other times you feel worse. You feel like you should’ve held it in longer, tucked it away somewhere, hid it further in the depths of your mind.