Secrecy.
It’s nothing I’m not familiar with. It was one of the first things I learned; one of the first things He taught me. Hiding myself beneath layers of clothing. Hiding my heritage. “It’s to protect you - to protect us,” He always said. A lot of good that did Him. I can no longer count the number of times I’ve asked myself: who is it really protecting? Me? Or them?
Secrets are nothing new to me. “What’s one more,” I lie to myself. I try to play it off like it isn’t eating me from the inside out; like not being able to openly express how I feel doesn’t make me want to tear my eyes out. I can’t go to anyone for counsel. They wouldn’t understand. Or maybe they would, and that possibility scares me even more.
I’m usually the one giving counsel, as ironic as that is. The mentally broken fiend-blood offering advice. It’s another thing He taught me - “Listen to what ails others; it may shed some light on your own woes.” The thing about this island is that everyone has problems, and very few of them are insightful, or even relatable.
Some secrets are meant to stay in a murky corner, never to see the light of day. I understand that. But it doesn't make it any less agonizing.
I can’t help but wonder - if He could see me today, would He be proud of what I've become?
Ravings of a Devil
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Ravings of a Devil
Jadoth Dawnfire wrote:*the helmet hides the tears*