Secret Keeper

I’m keeping secrets again. Once more, there is not one person on this earth who knows everything about me. I am hiding something from everyone, and while these secrets are not all the same to each person in my life, I’m keeping at least one thing, one aspect of myself hidden from them.

It’s been a handful of years since someone knew everything there was to know about me, inside and out. Since I felt comfortable having someone know my darkest secrets, my every thought, the reasons why I smiled, the reasons why I didn’t know why I wept. He swam in my darkness and attempted to keep us afloat when I tried to drown us both. But everyone has a breaking point. And maybe now I build him up in my mind because I know him as he is today and he’s not that same person. Not even an ugly imitation. Just ugly.

I’m getting sidetracked….

There is not one person on this earth who knows everything, or even my true face. Everyone gets a different version of me. Not one gets a true me. And I’m truly afraid of ever revealing all of me again. It’s a dark sea of deadly riptides and ever changing currents and I am capable of drowning people. Those who have dipped their toe in have all quickly retreated and, hell, I really can’t blame them. But I just want one person, just one, who isn’t afraid, an experienced swimmer.

I deplete myself, giving everything I have to others who face the same hidden, swirling chaos I do. I bolster and encourage. I smile and remind them everything will be okay and until it is, I’m always here. I say words that if, said to me, I wouldn’t believe. I fake my positivity to make them feel better, I focus on their darkness and pretend mine doesn’t exist. And they take, and I give and I keep giving until nothing is left, and yet, they’re still taking. My reservoir is empty. And there’s nothing filling it back up.

I’m hiding things. From every one. And I’m good at it. No one ever gets the full truth. I am someone different to every person. And I’m tired.

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