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Set my Secret free.


Every summer my Mother and I talk about the little things like little people in a little town. Talking less and debating more, but hearing out each other nevertheless. Today I have a million and one thing to tell her and, God forbid, all hell will break loose.

I’ll be graduating in a month, after I turn 21 first and nothing tastes of independence more than telling her about the intricacies of certain things in my life. You’d think it’s easy because they say the truth will set you free, but it also shatters one into a million little pieces.

I’m not afraid about her reaction and the multiple coaxing to change my mind thereafter. I’m only very afraid that she will fail to see him the way I do. And the view from up here is breath-taking. Touch-wood.
I hate keeping secrets, especially mine.


An Open Secret.

Life happens to me in-between. I don’t like sex as much as I like the kisses and strokes that lead to it. Anticipation is my happy place. But lately there has been a shift. Uncertainty scares me as much as mediocrity.

About a decade ago, my Father used to work out of town. I remember a time when I waited for his arrival every day for about 3 days, not knowing the exact day of his arrival. I never asked my Mother too but I just stood by the edge of the stairs looking out the street hoping the next car that appears is him. It was a celebration every time he came home. But the goodbyes were more intense. Today I wonder how my Mother coped with the parting.

Because I think I am in dire need of the same. I don’t know a lot of things lately. I don’t know if my assumptions are true. I tell him that he has changed. He doesn’t deny it but he tells me all the right things and he means it. I think he is going to leave the city for work reasons and I find myself fighting the urge to tell him every day how much I want him to stay. But I have always been the good girlfriend, I’ve always understood. It has always come easy, with good food.