That Which is Inside

     Sometimes I'm not sure why I write what I write...sometimes what I write is rather morbid. This is about holding onto secrets, I supppose.  Secrets that tear us apart from the inside out when we refuse to let them cease being secrets and tell someone; when we refuse to trust anyone with our hurt or guilt or whatever it may be that plagues us.

     Have you ever felt as though there are things that you  can't tell anyone?  And it builds up inside, trying to get out, screaming as loud as it can while you hold your tongue.  It's desperate to get out; you want the comfort of knowing that someone else knows.  But you say nothing and you feel as though it might kill you.  What is inside tries to.  It's desperate to kill you with the knowledge you possess, or at the very least torture you until you open your mouth at last.  Your tongue is bloodied from your teeth sinking into it one too many times, trying to prevent what's inside screaming from turning into your voice screaming out the same words.  The emotions you feel spill out regardless, but they are unexplained as you refuse to tell anyone still.
     The secrets are there.  They are so present and with such great potency that they hurt.  Relief would come in the telling.  But what would come when you received a reaction?  What would anyone's response be to what you hold inside?  Surely none could understand.  Surely they will judge you.  It is not the telling we fear, but what comes after it.  For too many times, people do not understand what it is that we have told them.  Or they don't understand its importance to us and treat it trivially.  Is that just a chance we have to take?  Is it worth it to be rid of the torment within?  Will it rid us of the torment within?
     Our hearts may not last if we hold it much longer.  They threaten to break at the silence.  But there is only silence on the outside.  On the inside are tormented screams.  And if we stay silent much longer, either the screams will come from our mouths as well as our hearts, and the whole world may know what torments us, or the screams will fade to soft whispers that we ignore as our hearts turn to stone and we embrace the distrust of all and the love of no one.