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"Best friends. Forever. Promise?" I whispered to Beth. She nodded. "No secrets. Ever. Best of friends." We hooked pinkies as we walked down the block, our minds now far from the oath we had just made. "And then CJ and Lakota took their bikes all the way over to get Jessica, because she was going too . . . well, she was going to give them something, but CJ and Lakota got there late, and Jessi had already left for Maine, so then . . . " Beth never stopped chattering. No secrets. Ever. I smiled as I looked at her. I knew Beth so well, I didn't think secrets were really a problem.
How well do people really know you? Your favorite color is green, yes, you are in love with "The Sopranos", and you would rather die than wear floral print. Right? Your parents don't know exactly how many times you have been grounded, but you did look super cute as a baby. They know that you are way to addicted to Myspace, and that your room is always looking like the center of a volcano, but does anybody really know you?
We all have secrets, we all have hidden thoughts and dreams that we would never tell to anybody. You consider yourself outgoing, bright, and very original. You stick to who you are. But what about the things you don't express about yourself?
I remember clearly remember that night many years ago. I was 11, and we were just arriving home from our drive back from New Hampshire to visit my Aunt Donna. I was cranky, tired, irritable, and grounded for two weeks from an incident in New Hampshire when my parents started to lecture me about not being influenced by other kids, and being true to myself. I snapped at them, "You don't know half of who I am! You don't know anything about me! You'll never know!" This scared my parents very much. Was I sick? Depressed? From that night on, I always remembered that there are more layers deep down inside of me that nobody knows about. A sanctuary. There are parts of you that your parents, your best, best friends may never see. Maybe it's a dark, passionate side. Maybe it's feelings of brooding, of being enclosed. Maybe it's a love for the world itself. Maybe keeping parts of ourselves just to . . . ourselves is the best thing to do.
I have an itch.
Whenever I go on road trips with friends or family, and I see them staring out the window, I always bug myself to the point of paranoia about what they are thinking. Are they thinking about love? School? So many thoughts could be running through their minds. I wish I could read them. But your mind is your mind. The one place you can be just with yourself, and not worry about anybody hearing you.
I know many of us think when we were younger that people could read our minds. Sometimes if I had a bad thought, I would tell myself not to think it to loud. I was sure that hawk-eyed fourth grade teacher would catch me.
I like to think that hidden characters of myself come out through my writing. For some, maybe it's a sport. But we all have those hidden elements buried within our body and mind . . . and who knows, maybe they will show themselves?
Glitsygrl
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