There are three kinds of a secret.
The first is the secret that someone tells you, and you say you'll keep it but you know its okay to tell one other person. And then that person knows its okay to tell their friend. And suddenly, it's not a secret anymore but a massive, well known thing. This is a pretty normal kind of secret. People would mostly assume that kind of thing happens only in middle/high school.
But that's not the case. It happens all the time. For everyone.
The next kind of secret is the one you tell maybe one or two other people. It's a secret that you giggle about, and you can share knowing looks over. Or maybe it's a dark secret that you only get pitiful looks from those who know, and you feel bad and regret ever telling anyone.
And then there's the real secret.
The dark stuff, which you keep locked up inside.
One incident, or thought, or movement or accident or whatever the hell it is.
And every time you remember it, the memory makes you squirm and your stomach gets all queasy and you just want to be alone or maybe not whatever makes you just not think about your secret.
These are the ones that will slowly drive someone insane.
Because we, as humans, are programmed to tell. When you feel bad, even though you say you feel okay, you always want someone to say those right words, the right thing that will allow that gush of feelings, those bad thoughts, everything that makes you feel.
You always want to tell.
It's part of being human.
I have a secret that makes me squirm.
It makes me wake up hot and sticky in the middle of the night. My stomach drops when this object of my secret passes by.
Keeping secrets are hard.
Not telling anyone about anything is harder.
When being a Strider, you are not expected to have any ounce of human nature in you.
Do you understand that this concept of not saying anything,
This 'not being able to feel anything'
This is not human.
It's painful, the kind of pain that is slowly ripping your insides out and shoving them back in upside-down so that everything feels out of place and uncomfortable.
My name is Dave Strider, and I hold the dark secret that most girls my age would.
I have a devastating crush on Karkat Vantas.
My secret was only newly discovered. When a friend of mine, Jade, came over one day, we sat watching TV, and she suddenly started asking me what I thought of the ever furious student that happened to sit next to me in three classes out of the eight I had each day and his locker was merely six lockers down. Not that I had counted or anything. That would be uncool.
"What do you think of Karkat?"
It had been a hot day, towards the end of school. My brain was muddled from lack of sleep, the consequence of trying to cram for the end of the year exams we had last week. I had rubbed one eye tiredly, tipping my head over the back of the couch arm, she sitting with her legs up onto the big orange chair that Bro usually occupies but he loves Jade for some obscure reason and lets her do whatever when she's over.
"Vantas? Nothing really. He's a total bitch, if that's what you mean. Why?"
She had shrugged. I could tell she was trying to think hard. This wasn't easy for Jade. Serious wasn't a good look for her adorable smushy face that so many boys had chased after this year.
"I think he asked me out." Was her reply. Her green eyes looked over at me guiltily, and for the life of me I couldn't understand why.
But standing here, in the dark, large white space that was Egbert's basement, where music was loud enough to make the bamboo floor underneath me pound and the clumsy thirteen or fourteen year old kids bouncing around to the music, holding red cups full of fizzy soda sweet enough to rotten teeth overnight. Here, I understand why her big eyes had held pity.
Because she had known. They had all known. My friends, the closest people to me in the world, they had realized about my love for Karkat Vantas. Before I even knew I liked guys, they had all known.
How, I will never understand. It's not like I would watch the small hot headed boy with a longing look, similar to the ones I caught some girls in my grade staring at me with.
It wasn't like I talked about him excessively, the way John did about...Pretty much everyone actually; I have no clue who he likes.
At least, I thought I didn't do any of those things. But now, with my eyes unconsciously glued to him, that sneaky little angry bastard who somehow wiggled his finger into my heart and prodded it to nothing, now I knew.
He was standing with his arms crossed, a permanent frown etched onto his small pale face as Jade tugged him towards where people were 'dancing'.
Dancing, of course, meaning literally jumping up and down like an idiot. Except there were some people who were actually dancing, and that would have been interesting if the most beautiful boy in the room had not been standing right over there. Standing there with a soft, but still angry look on his face, as he pleaded with Jade not to make him go over there. I watched as his lips moved, for once speaking calmly and lovingly as he was talking to the one he loved.
Which was not me.
Jealousy burned a dark hole through my stomach, like the green acid does in those stupid horror or sci-fi movies from the nineties and earlier. It stung and made me feel nauseous at the same time. Crushing the soda can in my hand, barely realizing that it was still half full- or empty, if you were that type of person- I tossed it to the ground and drudged up the modern stairs to the large white kitchen were John's dad sat reading the paper. He looked up as I strutted- no not bumbled, strutted, with dignity because I most defiantly am jealous of my best gal friend's boyfriend- into the wide open space. One look at my stance - not my face because then I would have been showing emotion and that's a big no-no in the Strider code-and he gave me a gentle smile, a smile that said I know what you feel. And suddenly there was a piece of chocolate cake in front of me.
I saw that he had gone back to the paper. John usually says that his dad likes to pry. But I guess the guy knew the Strider code well. Don't talk, no emotion, only small gestures that if were in a normal household would not be noticed at all.
The cake tasted good, soft and moist, and no, I did not subconsciously notice that it was the same color of Karkat's hair.
Outside was dark, and wearing shades, people would assume I was totally blind in this light.
But I wasn't, because I am a Strider.
I walked along side my step sister, Rose, whose face was nearly as blank as mine. We walked side by side, shoulders bumping slightly every now and then. Finally, a sigh escaped her sharp, small nose, and the small girl had come to a complete stop. I shoved my hands deep into the back pockets of my jeans, stopping as well, but only turning slightly to give her a level glare.
That was totally useful in every way. Because one can totally sense another staring at them from behind shades.
Shut up.
"Dave." Her voice made me turn fully, and my pale eyebrow quirked a little at her level and easy tone of voice. She was going into therapist mode. I rolled my eyes, turning back a little.
"Yeah, that's my name." I state, monotone voice sounding strange to my tired ears. All I really wanted to do was go to bed and sleep all week.
"Dave, have you realized now?" She asks quietly, and I almost let out a laugh. Almost. It really just is held back to a soft and quick swish of air, leaving my lips with a little 'heh'. I turn to face her fully, and she's a little startled.
"Rose." I say seriously, hands fidgeting, and I felt myself bite my lip a little. Her face is full of surprise, but I pull myself back together, braving a little smirk and turning my head away. "That's not really any of your business, now is it?" I mutter, barely hearing myself, much less being heard by the other, whose face is contorted with worry. Swiftly turning away, I continue my hunched over walk. Bro will be waiting up for us, and I didn't want him blaming us if Dirk was too cranky tomorrow morning to wake up for his first week of camp.