When your past secrets catch up with you... I usually don't have secrets that can be kept to myself for so long, but there's this one secret, it's buried deep, deep down, in the darkest pit of my memory box like one of those dust spots in the corners you miss on purpose cause it's too far and too hard to clean, and besides, nobody would see it anyway. My secret is like that. Or well, was. Now that I've told it to someone. Someone very unrelated to the secret.
It was a bad secret. That's why it's buried in the deep, dark corner of my memory box. Trust me, when I say it's bad, it's bad. I know, I may seem like the little goody-two-shoes who goes by the laws of Islam (Alhamdulillah, I repented!), and is probably as innocent as a bear, but this. This secret was bad. BAD. B-A-D, Bad! It happened two years ago, during my years of rebel (well, actually I still am quite rebellious, but I was worse in my Form One year).
You see, I had a boyfriend two years ago. One, I have to admit, I really, really miss right about now. Perhaps because it was our secret that I shared with one inexplicable person. It is the guilt that I hold to him, and to the Almighty. Anyway, this very bad secret was between me and him (and Him). I'm not telling what it is, that'd be stupid of me. And no, none of you, not even my closest friends are allowed to ask me about it. I've made the mistake of telling a person already and that just makes me feel bad.
Bad about myself, bad about the secret, bad about telling the secret and just about everything!
That -insert word- (for I have none) person did not only made me feel bad about NOT telling, he also made me fell bad about telling! Once he learned I had a deep, dark secret, he begged me to tell him. And I, who give in so very easily, could not help but to blurt it out. Foolish I was. He told me, "No secrets. You tell yours, I tell mine." He had two. When I finished telling my horrible past, he made me choose which one I wanted to know! Can you believe that! He had the nerve of telling me, "No secrets," and he's the one who made me choose! By right, I should get to know both for both of them combined aren't nearly as bad as mine!
Alas, there was a blackout, right after he said ONE of his secrets. At that time, I couldn't care less about the house getting a blackout. Heck, I was even slightly thankful. But lying down on the bed in the darkness made me think. It made me think of the hideous person I was back then, not so long ago. It made me think why I'm even friends with such a person. Before long, I fell asleep.
So the next day, he didn't say anything to me and I thought, maybe he's busy. Oh well. I let it go. The day after next, same thing happened and I was starting to wonder. Three days after, I started to get pissed. And now, a week later, I am just thinking to myself, why in the world am I friends with someone who often makes me feel like I'm a naive bimbo walking around earth not knowing what to look for? And this is the person I call my best friend. The person I call my best friend is the guy who did not even try to make me feel better after I told the biggest secret of my life, instead, just leaving me hanging to die in my own ocean of guilt. The person I call my best friend is the guy who mocked me for expressing my sadness about my dad's supposed-to-be 53rd birthday on the day they're announcing the PMR results.
And I still give him that much respect. Whenever I come across that thought of me still being in love with him, I shrug it off, because that's impossible.
