J's Musings

• The lifecycle of secrets

The most important thing to understand about secrets is they very rarely stem from an action with consequences. Rather more from actions that society questions. Be it something unconventional, odd or merely a natural action with prejudices against it.

My first re collection of a secret is from when I was told my baby bottle was taken away by a crow. I, for a fact, knew that no crow had flown away with my precious possession. I never showed it; as bothering with something, that was quite clearly, a lost cause seemed like a waste of time. This secret made something that was never a part of my personality a core trait in my mother’s eyes. That I was accepting and understanding was something everyone praised me about. I never quite figured out why this was repeated to me until my mother narrated this story to me at an age where I could remember most things.

That is the thing with secrets, they will either make something that you never were your entire description. Or it will unravel you raw to your innards.

This is also how the first type of secret ends up. It comes out. Starting as an action. Then shared with someone. Slowly trickling into speculations and gossip. Right up until it turns into a confession and confirmed fact.

A thin ribbon separates a lie from a secret; like the equator divides the earth. The difference lies in how a certain action is presented. Secrets are more of a hiding and lies are more twisting. If I had lied, I would have told my mother I always believed the crow theory. I rather held a secret. I simply never expressed my knowledge of her lie.

There is another way a lie can live. By beginning as an action and then turning into a whisper between a trusting mouth and a trusted ear. Morphing into secret glances when the topic is brought up. And soon dissolving into comfortable diversions of the topic immediately. Slithering into short lived suspicions. Such that cannot turn into gossip. As gossip needs less than glances to start but cannot build upon something that is as sure as the shutting down of related topics. Before being mentioned as a silly something to children and partners that ask about it. Afterwards only remaining as “Don’t scold them for keeping it from you. We all had stupid secrets in our youth. So did I.” – “No. Of course I don’t remember what it was. It was a lifetime ago.” Only to end up in the grave on the lips of the deceased poisoned with it. So deeply entangled into the decaying pile that the bugs eating at it may taste something they knew they weren’t supposed to. Though they may never know what, and yet it will kill them. And when ivy grows on the once blue lips, even the muskrats eating it may taste the essence of a secret taken to the grave.

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

-Emily Dickinson

That it has the ability to take secrets with it as it ends is also what makes life sweet. Certain secrets wrap around a person’s heart and squeeze until they either make the heart beat so fast; it runs out of blood to pump. Otherwise, until they suffocate it enough to not be able to pump even what exists. They cloud the head and come as mist before the eyes. Muddying one’s morals and integrity until the unwilling cushion of a casket and the disgusted soil welcomes the reluctant mourning of those who suspected. Once again, it will poison the lips of the deceased far more than what killed them [it was probably this] and the bugs will taste it like a bitter medicine. Like a drug that can’t intoxicate and only disgust and no ivy will ever grow on the shameless pile that dares to rest in peace.

Secrets are like a thread of strandedness that run through all of our existences. They, in all their shameful and silly girlish glory, remind us just how alone we are in moments of awkward decisions. They run in our veins, until we burst out or forget or die.

And that is the life cycle of a lie, to start from shame or regret and end up as one with the rest.

By,

Janhavi B.

Janx 🙂

Picture Credits: Pinterest [profile unknow]