Allow me to elucidate. Stories rich in cryptic secrecy
are not left to loiter and adhere in ears we whispered in, sorry to disappoint ya. Secrets travel far,
from your mates gabbing gobs, in-between the lips of a stranger you will coincidentally meet, sooner or later. Perhaps on a train, across the country from where your secret was born. When you finally encounter with mystery person, they will drag you out of a jaded, ‘train talk’, and engage you in a conversation, by unravelling their friend’s mortifying secret, of a delusional character who drank ‘elephant juice’. After all, you did spend the last few minutes earning their effortless trust. Both oblivious to the fact that the stranger is nonchalantly exposing a secret to whom it originally belonged to. It’ll shake a buried memory in your mind; echoing the underlining theme of a story you once experienced but is devoid of the subject matter. As far as
you know, your secret has still preserved its initial title ‘I love you’. Just like the game of Chinese-whispers we used to play, the title whimsically evolved into something more inconceivable like, elephant juice.
Little do you know though, your friends who you relied on to keep it under their hat, blunderingly spilled the beans to their hungry friends (whom they trust of course,) and subsequently your bonanza was disputed among friends of mutual friends, who each took it upon themselves to modify and enhance your secreted story. Surprisingly, in the range of versions, and all languages it was told in, merely three words remained impervious; “don’t tell anyone”.
Yes! It is remarkable how those simple words are used by many of us to seal our –and selfishly other people’s- secrets with, especially when it is not being said accordingly to it’s meaning, yet people say it perpetually. It’s become a safety lock we bestow the listener with, and the golden key is their waffling tongue.
we all have someone we rely on to keep our secrets; ‘someone’ also has someone else they trust your secrets with. It is an unbounded series of infidelity. So, like my mother says: “How can you trust people to
keep your secret, when you can’t even keep your own?” Food for thought, ladies.