Keeping a secret secret.
Category: Philosophy, Secrets, Walk of life
There are some things that have happened around you, or things that people have told you or you yourself have experienced or known. Major things, that could change someone else’s impression of someone else. Things you vow never to tell anyone because they are so personal or possibly unrelated and unnecessary to the person you’re talking to. Or because it was just something only you knew.
And there are times when a situation presents itself a great opportunity to reveal that little something. And you hesitate, not sure if you should or not.
You don’t.
But on some days, you let it out without warning with maybe just a slight bit of pre-thought that goes along the lines of “Oh, it’s okay to say this now”. Almost immediately (or much later), you regret it. Because it was once just between you and yourself and that knowledge was comforting.
You wouldn’t and don’t want them to repeat it to anyone else.
And when you realize this, it’s a little too late because the discussion is over. And because you run the risk of reminding them of it when they’ve possibly forgotten it.
It was over two years ago and we were close. We still are, actually. Maybe they remember, maybe they don’t. But maybe they do - it was something not so trivial. Regardless of the time span, it still makes me uncomfortable that they may know that part of me…
Shhh…
Category: Doodling, Memory lane, Secrets
Reading is a hobby of mine that people in real life are surprised to discover, if at all they do. It’s one of those hobbies that I pursue in secrecy, mostly because my dad frowns upon reading books other than those meant for studies. A waste of time, he says, before he throws them away.
Throughout childhood, my sisters and I have read in secrecy. Comics, novels, books, stories… anything would be smuggled in and chucked under pillows, in closets, under mattresses, and we’d even go as far as resorting to reading in the bathrooms, at times.
It turned into a habit: to read secretly. I usually enjoy most genres, favoring classics and mysteries over the rest. Every once in a while I immerse myself in a romance and mind you not the Mills and Boons kind, but the ones that make you smile, cry and try in vain to muffle your laughter as you journey through the book - even when it’s all over.
I discovered a book store nearby and have loved it since. I originally went there to buy a Jane Austen collection but they didn’t have the publishers I was looking for. Even though I’ve read the books, I don’t own them. I’ve long ago learnt that owning and reading a book are two different things. And some books you simply want to own; to have, reread, and keep for a very long time. For someone who reads in secrecy, it’s a feat to accomplish. But I ordered them anyway and spent the next few hours thumbing through other classics.
I used to wonder why people would want to buy books. Once you’re done reading them it’s over, isn’t it? Some five years ago, it seemed like a waste of an investment. It was only when I rediscovered an old favorite that made me want a copy for myself, Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree. I loved her books during grade school and still find it funny how I used to think her name was Gnid Blyton by the way the E was lettered.
While it comes to no surprise that I favor romances, since I’d like to think I am a romantic (albeit a slightly more realistic one than some), it does seem to evoke surprised responses when people find me nose deep in a book that’s not related to my curriculum.
My response? “Shhh…”