Secret. A magical word but also silly. Like princess. And treasure. Those lovely words that belong to little girls and fairytales and self-help books. Secret. Perhaps a word that we shouldn’t carry with us into Midulthood. Is that depressing?
The thing is, secrets are not to be spoken of. A secret is only a secret if nobody knows it. You can’t tell seven people, “This is a secret” and expect the information you are imparting to remain… yours. By definition it has been placed in the public domain. Tell one person and you stand a chance of keeping things quiet. More? Then it’s out there. People will discuss it amongst themselves. It becomes a ‘Have you heard?’ or a ‘This stays within these four walls.’ Cheapened.
It comes down to whether or not you feel you deserve a properly private life. Whether some of the confidential things that befall you still have resonance if no one else knows about them or if – for you –that is the sound of one hand clapping. If – for you – they do not have meaning without being shared.
Secrets are often a little scary or a little sad and sometimes playing them close to your chest helps to neutralise them.
So if you have a secret. Try guarding it. Try treating it as a precious thing. Not for the world. Not for gossip. Just yours. That is how to keep certain secrets beautiful.