Something kicked in and I know I shouldn’t ignore it. I was right to bring my laptop to work because in the middle of discussing spot rates and swaps, I felt the urge to write. It’s been a while since I last felt the urge, and I’m not about to let it pass me by.
I am a firm believer of lying. Really. Though some people might find that immoral, I believe it makes me a great friend, and a great secret keeper. For quite some time, people have confided with me their deepest and darkest secrets
which explains why I have bangs. Contrary to my extroverted personality, I am a very good secret keeper. How? When people ask me about someone else’s secrets, I lie. Brutal, but true.
What am I supposed to say to them? "I promised"? "They made me take an unbreakable vow" (Harry Potter fans WAVE!)? There are not enough people in this world that can easily understand there are just some things that cannot be shared. There are just some things that are not for public knowledge. Once I say that, they instantly call me "corny". Some even quip "Sige na, ako lang naman eh." But the thing is, the secret is not for you. The secret is just for me and the giver. I am the secret keeper, and the moment I tell you about it, it is no longer kept.
So I make up stories, things that will feed their curiosity and end it. I feed them the words they want to hear, or the words they expect to hear. I know it’s mean, but what am I supposed to do? I get cut both ways. Each time I have to make up these stories, I have to file them in my head so the next time they ask, I’d know how to follow it up. It becomes a compulsion even. It becomes such an addiction that you make up another lie to support the previous one.
This is the cost. This is what makes me a bad person. I lie to friends to protect friends. I lie with grace and poise. It almost flows smoother than the Mississippi river on a good day. Which is why I am freaking pissed, angry, and immediately envelop myself in a field of loathe and anger when the secret giver assumes that I gave their secret away.
WHAT THE FUCK MAN. Do they even know how hard it is to keep their secrets? It’s not that I mind; it actually makes me feel good when people see me as their confidante. But the moment they gather the guts to question my word — the word I gave them after they shared their secrets — it just fucking makes me want to shove their faces to the wall. I’m doing everything that I can to understand as much as I should; I’ve always believed that we are in this world challenged to be more empathic (read: compassion). But you have no right to question my loyalty.
I believe I am one of the most loyal people you’ll ever meet. When you’re right, I’ll defend you. When you’re wrong, I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you to the skin of my teeth. I tell you what your mistakes are, I give you valid advice, I don’t shrug off your criticism, I accept and reject with proper reasoning and logic. So why the fuck would you question the one thing that I promised I would do for you?
Sometimes, it’s not worth it anymore. Being a friend to this kind of people. The ones who constantly question the level of your friendship. Of MY friendship. You don’t get to do that. Because I don’t fucking do that to you.
I’m so relieved to get this off my chest. I didn’t realize just how much it has been bothering me until I actually sat down and started punching the keys to this thing. This laptop, by far, is the best material investment I’ve ever made.