Secrets

One of Those Things

Since I was very young people have told me their most private, personal secrets. It started out simple enough, friends telling me about secret crushes and other desires. But, that has since escalated to extremely sensitive personal information.

What is concerning is that this information comes to me unsolicited. I do not ask to know these things. In fact, I sometimes wish I could completely forget them. I think, somehow, people can sense that fact--that I cannot, in good conscience, break a trust.

People confess their darkest, most troubling secrets, the kind you only could imagine were true, and that the confessor wishes to somehow erase. It leaves me in vulnerable spot, to be certain. I cannot betray those trusts, nor can I ease the sorrow a secret may cause. It seems I can only bear witness and keep my own.