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Whisper
...written on 2009-09-30, @ 3:34 p.m.
"When the psychologists tried to decide who should have custody I pretended I liked my parents equally. They were the grown-ups, why couldn't they just act like it?"
"What would you do? What would you do if he grabbed you too hard? It wasn't a big deal right? But those bruises were on my wrist. Then he started hitting me. I thought I loved him. What would you do?"
"Everything was about them. No one got it. This helped. You weren't supposed to see."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Did you always feel like this? Have you ever thought about....? Oh dear, oh honey, it'll be okay."
"But I'm just me! I'm not smart, or pretty, or perfect. I don't know anything. There has been so many before me. I don't know how to do this."
"I thought that was it. I thought, I thought that you were done and I was so scared."
"What if I wake up and he tells me he was kidding?"
"He was my whole life. I planned it out and he was in it. That was all there was."
"When you started, when he started, the world fell apart. I hated you."
"I love you but I just don't like you anymore."
"Everything is their decision. I feel like I have no control over my own life. They just want me to say how amazing they are, how thankful I am, but I can't do that anymore. I need help. I need someone to support me."
"I wished I was dead. I drank and I drank and I drank so I could forget but the whole time I just wished I was dead."
These are the secrets we keep. These are the ones I know. These are the ones I was told. These are the ones I keep. Filthy promises whispered in the dark. Some people write them on postcards. Some people etch them into skin. Some people cry them into their pillows. But these are the scary ones. The ones for the nighttime. The ones for the quiet.
"It's a boy."
"My name is..."
"I was stupid and I can't get rid of it now. Kind of funny when you think about it. Maybe I can get something to cover it"
"I love him."
"I'm moving."
"I got the job of my dreams."
"Sometimes I mix hot chocolate in my coffee because it makes me feel like a little kid."
"I bite him more than I used to."
"You're perfect."
And I keep these too. These are different. These ones are funny and soft and lovely. These whispers are loud and soft and interrupted by giggles. These are the ocean on a summer day. Soft and blue and just a few ripples to disrupt it.
Either way, I think I might be sick of secrets. I think I might want to tell the truth but I don't even know how to start.