Post a Secret

I knew about the website from Rust's blog. There were some fascinating posts that made me want to write about people and their lives. There are nothing too provocative, not more than what you could get from any copy of the U.S. Cosmopolitan. I find whatever few entries I have read very moving. There is already a sense of right and wrong in everyone who is posting there. It is just that I don't know whether they know where that come from. Why won't they feel guilty cheating on their husbands or having extra-marital affairs, or having evil thoughts about others? The difference is here on postasecret website, they admit their guilt, mostly, while in Cosmo, they are telling a story that sensationalize.

What would be a secret that I would post? In searching my memory bank, I can't find any. I have at least told one or two people of my well-kept secrets, which later didn't turn out to be quite well-kept.

But there is a face I recalled.

I couldn't recognized that face the day I saw him. He deliberately made it so. He covered most of his face with his hand that was proped up against the car window, which was drawn down. I was in my little Swift laughing away with my three other passengers (of course, again, at how bad my driving was). We both stopped at the red light side by side and I was waiting to turn to borders.

I couldn't recognized that almost covered face, when I turned to a passenger behind me to pass a remark laughing. I caught a glimpse of a pair of teary eyes when I turned and they were staring right at me. I stopped, puzzled, and realized that he had been looking for a while, because his teary eyes were filled with "what could have been" regrets that must have given time to build up. I put my brain on an overrun to search for a name. I couldn't find a match to that face.

I met his eyes and frowned. Who's that person? When did I last see those eyes? Just then, the light turned green. His black car zoomed past me before I could even catch a glimpse of his full face, which he had skilfully blocked it from my view by putting down his hand from his face only after he had accelerated his car and putting down his hand blake with the other hand. By doing that, I didn't even have a spilt second before he was gone. All I had was that pair of eyes and it disturbed me for a whole journey bringing my friends back to their place, to pine grove, to shunfu and to farrer park.

When I finally remembered, I was stumped to a great long silence. I didn't think he would change to a new car because in my memories, he's still driving a green one. I didn't think I would have that much of an impact. I have woken up from the delusion that it was one great love. How could he not?

And there was a post on the post a secret website that triggered this entry: ``I always said "I love you" before I meant it and sometimes I never did.''