I've gotten very good at hiding my emotions. I know when to keep my feelings bottled up, and when it's okay to express myself. I only let the feelings I want to show be displayed for all to see. The rest I keep to myself.
Secrets are another thing I'm good at hiding. I have had quite a few of them over the course of my life, so I know how to keep them. I can always be depended on to keep someone else's secret, but I never share any of my own. Trust me with yours, but you won't get anything in return. That's my policy. Most of my secrets are too special, too private, too intimate, to share with others. Some are too painful to utter aloud. I don't trust others with my secrets, not even those who are closest to me. The only person I trust with my secrets is myself.
The problem with hiding emotions and keeping secrets is that when they join forces, you find yourself being eaten from the inside out.
Keeping your face devoid of emotions, your posture natural, your mannerisms unreadable, your mouth shut… It's a lot to manage. But I do. I must. I can't let anyone know what she meant to me…
I sometimes wish I could have told her how I felt… I almost did once. But I couldn't. I trained myself to keep silent, and so I let the opportunity pass me by. But would it have made a difference if I had told her? Probably not. She had her eyes set on someone else, and she probably didn't even know I existed. No, that's not true. We were acquaintances, but that was it. I wish it had been more. I could have made it be more, but I didn't.
It would have been so easy for me to say to her, "My name is Roach. I think you're really nice, and I'd like to get to know you." The worst thing that could have happened would be that she declined my offer. My heart would be broken, but I'd move on and get over it. Now I'll never be able to get over it. Never be able to get over her.
I have nothing now. Nothing to live for, nothing to dream about. My hopes are as ruined as a spider's old, forgotten web: thin fragile strands drifting away, lost forever.
I suppose I have the Overqueen to live for. But she's just my job; nothing more. Well, maybe a little bit more.
I used to think that what I felt toward the Overqueen was love, but I now know better. It was just passion. I told Bug that I loved her, told the Overqueen herself that I loved her… but it wasn't true. Deep down inside, I knew it wasn't true. I knew that I loved someone else…
But I had to make sure that I seemed completely devoted to the Overqueen. To make sure no one suspected my lack of loyalty, to make sure no one found out that my heart yearned for someone else. I had to weave a web of tangled lies so convincing that I myself almost believed in my made-up love for the Overqueen.
But I never forgot the true object of my love. She filled my mind, every spare thought was of her, and she filled my dreams at night.
I could leave the Overqueen, leave the hive, leave all my pain and sorrow behind… But I won't. I'm a coward. That was also part of my problem. I never spoke to her because I was scared. Scared to come out of my exoskeleton and tell her how I felt. If I had, maybe she'd still be here…
If, if, if. Amazing how after a tragedy, all we can do is live in a hypothetical world of what could have been. If I had, if she had, if we could have…
There's no sense dwelling on the past, yet I do. I can't stop thinking about how everything could have been different. I'd tell her exactly how I felt about her, and I wouldn't worry about what she or anyone else would think.
No one else knows how much pain I'm in because of her death. Every day without her causes my heart to break apart even further. No one knows how many tears I have shed for her. But I only cry when I'm alone; silent raindrops falling to the ground with no one to see them but me.
I couldn't cry when she died. I couldn't wrap my wings around her and tell her it'd be alright, even though it wouldn't. I couldn't have been there to make her passing less painful, for both of us. Because then she'd know, and it'd be too late for her to do anything about it.
So I stood by and watched as she asked Bug to sing to her. I ached to be the one she asked, but she wanted Bug. She always wanted Bug. He has no idea how lucky he was to have her swoon over him like that. I would have given anything to be him.
I couldn't bear to say goodbye to her. Seeing her lifeless carcass on the ground was too much. It hurt too much. But I swallowed my tears, my feelings, my love for her.
My love for Bugette.
Bugette, if only I could have told you how I felt, how much I cared about you. How much I loved you. But you loved Bug; that was obvious. And you were too blinded by your love for him to see that he didn't care.
But I cared. I always cared. You could have torn off my head and let your larva devour my body any time you wanted. My hopeless romantic act was just that-an act. So you wouldn't see that I loved you. After you discovered that Bug was in love with that human, I thought to myself, Maybe now I'll tell her. But I couldn't find the words to tell you. They were locked away, and the key was nowhere in sight.
I don't know why I got so good at keeping secrets. So good that it was impossible for me to share them. Love works in mysterious ways like that, I suppose.
Bugette, I would have been so good for you, if I had had the nerve to show you how I felt. I regret that I didn't. But it's too late now.
Now you're gone, and I'm still here. Alone. I'll live out the rest of my days here in the hive, but they will be empty and meaningless without you.
You know my secret now, Bugette. Cherish it as much as I loved you. And still love you. You are forever in my heart, and I vow to never love anyone as much as I loved you. I'll miss you the rest of my life, and I hope that wherever you are, you'll keep my secret safe. I trust you with this secret, Bugette. Because I loved you.
I love you.