extraordinary secrets from ordinary lives

I had a lapse in judgment that resulted in a string of exceedingly embarrassing events which I would rather not divulge to anyone other than those who already know. There were things involved which I would have preferred to remember, if only to have some kind of way to defend myself. I suppose that it's a lesson learned the hard way, but this was one lesson I wouldn't have minded getting the cliffnotes for.

Anyway, trust is a hard thing to keep these days. It's also a hard thing to dole out. How can you keep trusting when every time you think it's okay to tell someone something, that person will inevitably reveal the secret, and usually to the person intended to keep the secret from in the first place.

We're reading The Scarlet Letter. Hester Prynne knew a bit about secrets. Arthur Dimmesdale, now there was a coward if I ever did read about one. You could argue that he had a reputation to uphold, a position to honor, a priestly duty to God to fulfill, but does the denial of your bastard child not count as sin?

I feel like, I have a lot of secrets. But somehow, when I sit down and try to list them, I can think of nothing. Maybe that's a sign that I'm more open than I think. Maybe it's just that I've hidden the secrets for so long, I can't even see them for myself anymore. I've shoved them in a corner so far and hidden within my mind that they've embedded themselves into the walls of my brain. An incongruous part of the complex human mind, no longer able to be studied under the ever-concerned eye of my conscience.

Do you know, I've always liked to think, the one you love most will make you cry, but the one who loves you most would rather die than make you shed a tear. I'm not sure that's true. But the first part is. For me, it's a lot more literal than I would've liked it to be, given previous incidents. On the other hand, I also realized that, much like that profound book I read months ago, someday, this pain will be useful to me.

Someday, this will have a purpose.

Until then, I may choose not to search for said purpose, lest I miss the pleasant details of a life better spent enjoying the moment rather than analyzing the future.