Sometimes, life just sits there, flat and unmysterious and ho-hum.
Sounds are dull.
Smells are flat.
Food tastes bland.
But sometimes, you have a secret.
Sometimes you feel like you're the center of a happy universe that was built just for your joy and pleasure when you have your secret.
The road signs rise up to greet you and the letters dance in your eyes. Their echos whisper in your ear– they quietly sing a song just for you.
Everything shines with a new, special meaning– you are convinced that every sound and smell and taste was placed before you to remind you of your happiness. Your heart thumps double-time when you remember your pretty shiny secret.
Secrets are such fragile things, that when you hold on to them too tightly, they shatter.
Their fragile fragments dig into your skin. What was once beautiful and shiny and special now cuts you, and it hurts.
The only rational thing to do? As with butterflies, you need to set your secrets free.
They'll come back to you, someday. And maybe, just maybe, they won't be secrets then.
Want me to let you in on my little secret?
I have a big, huge crush on that big, dumb, human-stuffed chicken that walks around with the PETA people.
And now you know.