Thirteen

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"Secrets are lies." Secrets are lies. She'd read that somewhere. She wished she could remember where. Being able to cite a reference could come in handy. Eh, she'd never buy it anyway. She maintained her truth. Lie enough and it becomes your truth. I would be cool if someone said that. Oh, wait, she thought, I just did. Clever, but she knew no one was listening. I'm nobody's hero. No one cares what I have to say. Not even the people, the person, I love.

She was frustrated. Life had dealt her a blow. How to deal? She was a grad student. She did what she did best. What brought A after A. She analyzed. Poured over the facts, worked the logic. And cried. And cried. And cried. There was only one explanation. And it wasn't a good one.

She wrote it out. Supported her argument. Logic. Fact. Secret. Lie. It all blurred into a bittersweet victory. Ah-ha! She knew. And suddenly wished she didn't. Life sucked. Why wasn't I born dumb? she thought. Or at least gullible?

Time and time again she wished she could buy it. And time and time again, she couldn't. Let it go, she thought. The words rang in her head. Just let it go.

Forgive. Forget. Let her be.

Maybe it's not what you think, but if it's not what you think, then what in the Hell is it? Nothing. It's nothing.

She screamed a silent scream. TELL ME!

She didn't. "Secrets are lies". Lies are lies. And she knew she was lying. She could prove it. But proof didn't matter. "If you love me, you'll believe me".

I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, she thought, but 2+2 doesn't equal 13 and it never will.

It never will. Damn logic. God damn logic.

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