Burdens

     One of the things people admire about me is my ability to keep a secret. They know they can tell me someone and no one else will know about it. It's harder than it looks. I have the deep, dark dirt on a lot of people--ex-friends, current friends, even my dad. The thing is, their secrets that I can never tell anyone effect (affect? Who cares...) me so much. The deepest, darkest points in others' lives have the most profound impact on me. It's like having to carry around the knives they cut me with, and I have to keep them hidden under my coat so no one can know that I was in pain...that I'm still in pain.
     Just once, I wish I could talk to a total stranger. Someone who's never met me, and who will never see me again, and who's never met and will never meet the people whose secrets I carry. I wish I could sit down for a couple of hours at a coffee shop with him and pour out all my hurts, all my knives. Just to have one person in the world who knows, who understands how I feel, would relieve at least some of these burdens I carry.
     Sure, I've talked to people about how I've been hurt by others in the past, but every time I was still bound by my conscience to keep their secrets. But, if it was someone completely objective, someone who would never have a reason to meet the people I'd tell them about or to tell the secrets I'd give them. Just to tell them, just to share once, I hope would be enough.