Most secrets are like syrup. People always pour too much without meaning to. So much that it oozes in all the little crevices and spreads everywhere. They spread slowly; the anticipation they get from the way the thick liquid moves is fascinating. It gets all over your hands and your mouth, and when you try to wash it off, the sweet taste leaves and you are left with only a sticky residue that is visible to everyone.
Some secrets are like the little strawberry hard candies that are no one's first choice. But I guess they are enjoyable all the same. You can let them melt under your tongue; the sweet taste will last for hours. You can bite them and later maybe attempt to pick the crushed candy off your back molars. It’s an average experience, so lackluster that you usually find some sort of comfort in it.
Some people treat secrets like expensive chocolate. They might show you that they have it; they might even let you pick up a piece and look at it. If they really like you, they will split the bar and give you a quarter of it, maybe even half. They savor it, like it is something important when in reality chocolate is basically the same, and after you do eat it, it’s easily forgettable. The most special thing about it is the pretty little package that it's wrapped in.
Some people keep secrets like they are children hoarding candy. They put them in a box and slide it under their bed, or maybe on a dusty top shelf of a dresser. They feel the weight of the box wherever they go, and they would guard it with their life. They don’t let anyone near the box, or anywhere else in their lives, and in doing so they neither lose nor gain any more candy. You must make some sacrifices to yield a high reward.
I distribute my secrets like sprinkles. I make them colorful and sweet, and they are received in easy digestible portions. No one will ever get so much that they start to think that they might prefer something savory. Secrets are something that I will never run out of. I could keep giving away little pieces of myself and still have more than I know what to do with. However it is essential that I treat every piece, every sprinkle if you will, like it is the most important thing in the world. This way the receiver feels as if they are in possession of a crucial part of me. It makes them feel important, it makes them feel valued, and most importantly it makes them feel like they can reveal themselves to me.
When I was younger, my friends nicknamed me the Candy Man because there was always at least one colorful wrapper tucked in my pocket. I liked candy from a young age because I was young, and candy was candy. I was one of the few that could afford the special treat, so why wouldn’t I eat it? I loved the way that it looked, so colorful and pleasing to the eye. I loved it because the way it was made fascinated me, how taffy was stretched and caramel was boiled and chocolate hardened in molds. I loved how it was something that was common to me but a rarity to most. I loved the way that people's eyes would widen from admiration and jealousy when I was so careless with something so important.
I have been warned time after time to never be too greedy, to pace myself because I will grow sick of the things that I have been given in life. But I don’t think I have ever been close to satisfaction. I am always so overwhelmed with a hunger for more. I could drown in sugar until my teeth were rotten and my limbs weak, and I would still not be satisfied. People warn me that hunger is my fatal flaw; however, I view it as a gift that gives me a purpose in this life.
There is nothing sweet about these cement floors and metal bars. Nothing enticing about the way that food is shoved under a flap three times a day. Everything is laid out for you; what is the fun in that?
It does not worry me, the way my life has become so bland, so tasteless. Sugary things have a way of finding me. Next time I just must remember to savor it; that has never really been my strong suit.
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