The secret.

On day 3 of the writing course we were presented with the title ‘secret’ and were given five minutes to flow write. This was the result:

 

I got told a secret. It was too much to contain. I went by, ignoring my temptation to utter those sacred words, I bit my lip in public or in the company of my inquisitive friends. I looked behind me constantly in case I gave it away. I panicked at the sight of someone looking at me, anyone who noticed me, smiled at me, laughed near me. They must know, they all know the secret. It’s a burden, a terrible one. I wish I never knew it or heard it. I hate that. All this waiting is too much to bear, let me reveal it to you all. I need to unload it off my chest. It’s burning inside me, ready to escape, willing to let itself out and dash to freedom. It wants to be released. I’m keeping it trapped and holding it captured in my mind.

 

What was the secret? Did it have something to do with my father, the abuse? 

 

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