Secrets
For some reason, we like secrets. We like knowing something that others do not, and then the pleasure of keeping that something from others. What happens, though, when the secret we keep doesn’t only keep others in the dark, but also ourselves? What would we do then? Live in darkness? For how long can we live without the light? How long can we hold on to a secret when that secret forces alienation upon us, apart from the world where we belong?
What of this living in the dark? Would this not cause a warping of the mind, the intense desire to hide ourselves from the world? Can we take pleasure in our secret and live in the dark as well? Would this be healthy? Would we drive ourselves to do what we would not do in the light because of the darkness we force upon ourselves with our secret? What pits would we fall into while preserving the secret that prevents the aid of light?
More than the pleasure of a secret is the pleasure of gaining a new one. A secret captured is a feat, one we celebrate within ourselves as if we conquered the climb of Everest. We count our collection of secrets precious and gleam in the glow of new secrets added to the lot. What if a secret is too much? What if that someone in the darkness ready to step into the light at the loss of the preservation of their secret, specifically the giving of their secret to you, causes you to revolt against the offering? What if the secret is so much that you would rather push that soul into their darkness once again than to accept their secret and allow them to stand in the light? Would you not care that their glimpse of light lost as you banished them to the darkness be more painful than the secret you felt so overwhelmed with?
As one with such a secret, would you rather voluntarily live in darkness forever to avoid the possibility of being pushed from the light, or chance life in the light at the risk of being sentenced to the darkness?
No responses yet
