I have a secret, eating away. Living with me for months but rejected, despised. Hidden in the corner of my room, unused, unwanted but needed. Needed more each day but still I leave it there, turn my back and walk away, refusing to give in.
I hate it, I hate all it stands for, as befriending it means giving a piece of myself away. Giving away my freedom, giving away my stupid, stubborn pretence that I am able to live without it. A constant reminder of my imperfections and vulnerability. An admission that my life will never be the same again.
Vertigo spins my head, pain throbs through my feet, my neck – yet still I steady myself on a wall, a chair, a person. The Secret stares at me, willing me to admit defeat but still I resist and look away. The Secret remains, resting but never sleeping, ready for the day that I reach out to it and surrender..