A secret could be a time when life hit you real hard, that it kills your stomach and head and heart, all at once. It could be a time when you screwed up, a situation in which you wouldn't want it to repeat anymore, or words you have said to someone, or words you have listened to. It could have been the worst time of your life.
Or maybe, the harm was inflicted on you. You’re embarrassed you didn’t see the fist coming until it sucker-punched you right in the gut. It could have been a time in your life when you weren’t being the person you wanted to be.
But then it kills to keep the secret within , the pain bring an excruciating loneliness. And just when you decide to take all the strength and courage to share it, the human species makes you feel worst than anything else on mother earth.
You thought excruciating loneliness was painful, but you learned the agonizing pain of having your secret against you by the very same person you've trusted them with, kills you.
You thought excruciating loneliness was painful, but you learned the agonizing pain of having your secret against you by the very same person you've trusted them with, kills you.
You stop dead in your tracks. Your cheeks blaze, and little pinpricks materialize on your skin.This feeling permeates your entire body down to your bones. Plain and simple, you feel ashamed.
You recall a saying about how sharing your secret halves the burden of carrying it alone, but most times, its better than having it happen twice. Keeping it inside is too painful. But sharing it does more damages. In the hopes of getting rid of the burden in your heart, you pass him the razor and the map, of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul.
When your secrets are used against you, you start to believe that the world is not made of love anymore, and relationships doesn't necessarily mean to completely trust.
We choose to believe that the excruciating pain of our secrets are lighter to bear than the agonizing pain of broken trusts. That is when people like you and me start to believe more in our novels, or pets. In the trees and lakes. In the pages of a diary, and the lyrics of a song. We choose the comfort of our pillows and dark rooms over people to tell a secret to. Because they will never say a word back.
Ever.
When your secrets are used against you, you start to believe that the world is not made of love anymore, and relationships doesn't necessarily mean to completely trust.
We choose to believe that the excruciating pain of our secrets are lighter to bear than the agonizing pain of broken trusts. That is when people like you and me start to believe more in our novels, or pets. In the trees and lakes. In the pages of a diary, and the lyrics of a song. We choose the comfort of our pillows and dark rooms over people to tell a secret to. Because they will never say a word back.
Ever.
Not all psychos hurt.
Some of them are sitting right next to you in class trying to figure out how to continue on without being noticed.
They know your secrets and flaws and know how to use them against you.
It takes so much to control.
To hold back.
And that’s why I can’t be with you.
Because I don’t want to turn into the psychos who kill.
The psychos who hurt.
Some of them are sitting right next to you in class trying to figure out how to continue on without being noticed.
They know your secrets and flaws and know how to use them against you.
It takes so much to control.
To hold back.
And that’s why I can’t be with you.
Because I don’t want to turn into the psychos who kill.
The psychos who hurt.
