Secrets

A wife and husband share a razor. A declaration of war for some. Kids using me as a climbing gym while I'm taking my morning dump. We each have our own personal bubble. Our Do Not Cross Line. Crime Scene being investigated. Don't touch me while I'm sleeping. A king size bed for one. Or spoon while I'm sleeping. I can't sleep without someone. Lines. Personal boundaries. A blue shield. A filter. Porous. Or solid. A brick wall. Cement. Bullet proof. Or a membrane. Goretex. That breathes. Keeps the water out, but allows us to breathe. Letting people in. Or blocking them out. Letting some in. And others we keep on the outside. To stay safe. Protected. From what? From being hurt. Again. I refuse to feel that again. That pain. I will not go there. And so we block. Keep Out. Do not Enter. We filter. We let a few in through the pores. To get to know the real us. Who we really are. Our sadness. Deep sorrow. Fear. Our fear of everything. Failure. Doing it wrong. I can share that with you. But not you. And what do we keep entirely to ourselves? That part of us we don't reveal to anyone. Not even our partners. Not even the person we will spend the rest of our lives with. For fear they will leave. Judge us as not who they married. Who is this person? We fear. And so we keep secrets. So many secrets. Only we know who we really are. Only I know the real me. The dark me. We keep them close. These secrets. Hug them. Caress them. Feed them. Because we need them. We need them to hold us in place. They prove to us who we think we are. The stuck version. This is just who I am. And what if we were to release them? To make a release-the-secrets date. Valentine's Day maybe. Here are my darkest secrets. I need to tell you. And see what happens. If they truly love you. Unconditionally. There are no conditions. They will love every bit. Every dark corner. And there will be more depth. More of you out there to see. More humanity. More flaws. More power. To love. And you may be surprised. A lightness can come. A release.