Sometimes I feel like a diary. Like a locked diary full of stories, secrets and forgotten memories.
When I was a little girl my parents taught me that if I were confided with a secret that would never give me the permission to share it with others because that’s what a secret meant.
To be honest it made me kind of afraid to even share stories from friends because I wasn’t sure if they were meant to be secrets or not. Growing up though I started to understand the difference between a secret and a story told just for the sake of a conversation.
For almost 19 years I’ve had someone tell me pieces of stories from their own life; things they never told anyone; their little secrets. I was told to share them whenever I felt like it was the right time.
It’s like in those movies, right?
Some of those things are heartbreaking and some heartwarming.
There are times when I’m afraid I’ll forget them but just when I least expect it they come to me like if they were my own memories; during lecture, at a restaurant, before sleep.
It’s such an amazing gift to have heard the whole life of someone who’s so strong-willed and optimistic.
I’ve been thinking of sharing stories from their life and mixing them with my own in order to create something new, keep them safe as secrets and also to beat the fear of forgetting.
Hope I get to write something like that here soon.